


the last five years

by tonystarktrash



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angry Tony Stark, Angst, Appendicitis, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, BAMF Pepper Potts, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Moving On, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Nightmares, Not A Fix-It, Parent Pepper Potts, Parent Tony Stark, Past Child Abuse, Pregnancy, Protective Tony Stark, Regret, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark-centric, Weddings, and that is for howard stark not for tony don't get it twisted, filling in that time jump baby!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-02-08 20:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 87,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18630637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonystarktrash/pseuds/tonystarktrash
Summary: “Oh, Tony,” Pepper murmurs, cupping his face in her hands. She always knew what to do, had known him for so long that all of his idiosyncrasies were second nature to her. After New York, when his nightmares had woken her with terrible screams, she had learned when to touch him and when to comfort him with only words. He’s so starved for her touch, he wonders if he’s giving off some sort of signal to her, like a neon sign.Touch me, Pepper. Touch me, and help me survive, help me come to terms with this.filling in tony and pepper's five years of bliss in avengers:endgame.





	1. Chapter 1

_No trust. Liar._ The words leave Tony like venom, spat out with such force that they must’ve burned Steve, who recoils back. That’s not enough for Tony, a lifetime of apologies is not enough for Tony, whose slim hands – complete with an IV desperately trying to pump fluid into his long-suffering veins – wrap around Steve’s throat. The righteous Captain America doesn’t fight back as Tony chokes the life out of him with a hoarse roar. “Where were you? Where were you?!”

“Tony – Tony, stop! You’re okay! You’re home!” Pepper’s voice is frantic, her hands at his shoulders, pushing him back against the hard mattress of the hospital bed. Tony looks at her with wild brown eyes, his hands fighting weakly against the restraints at his wrists. It was a dream. There was no justice here. Steve Rogers had walked away, leaving Tony to fall on the floor, his body giving up before his mind could. He had walked away, just as he had with the Accords. No amount of pleading from Tony would ever cause Steve to bend to his will.

“Tony, look at me!”

He’s still fighting the restraints, he realizes then, still fighting against the past. _Why fight against the past when the future is right in front of me?_ It is then, while staring at Pepper’s frightened face, that Tony starts to take stock of his surroundings. He’s being drugged, he can tell that much. As bright as he had burned in anger, coming out of his dream, it was still sluggish. Like he was experiencing someone else’s anguish. Tony’s eyes slowly track around the room, squinting against the bright sun pouring in from the windows – _whose fucking idea was it to put this many windows in the med bay – wait. Mine._ Eyes watering from the sun, he finds the source of his haziness, a glass bottle hung up by his bedside, an intravenous line fed into a vein on the back of his hand. Propofol. He’d recognize the milky white liquid anywhere – a sedative. Next to it, a plastic tube filled with a light brown fluid. Tony’s fingers twitch against the sheets as he follows that particular tube, closing his eyes with the sudden discomfort in his nose. A feeding tube. _Jesus wept_.

“It’s just for a little while, Tony,” Pepper whispers, her touch gentle against his cheek. _How does she always know what I’m thinking? God. How did I get so lucky?_ “You’ve lost so much weight, muscle mass. Bruce said it’s a miracle... A miracle.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he slurs out, his eyes still closed. _This is what it’s come to. The kid is gone. We lost. Steve doesn’t give a damn. I’m a weak, pathetic… thing. Not human. Just… roadkill rotting in the sun coming in from those goddamn **windows**._

Without a word, Pepper gets to her feet, the loss of her warm touch against his cheek making him feel emptier than ever. But then, the shades slowly come down against the windows. _Right again, Ms. Potts._

“The sun must be harsh on your eyes.” She settles in the chair beside his bed, taking his hand gently, as if afraid he might wrench it out of her grip in anger. He can’t do that – not that he even wants to – the restraints cut any thoughts like that off before they can form into an idea.

“Pepper. Can we… get these things off? Please?” Tony grits his teeth, he hates to beg. _What difference does it make? This Tony Stark. This thing. He begs. Of course he begs._

“We can’t, sweetheart, I’m sorry. You ripped out your IV earlier, with --.” Pepper glances at the glass doors leading out of the med-bay, so quick that Tony almost doesn’t think anything of it. Until he notices that her cheeks are flushed, her lips pursed, her focus back on him so intensely that he knows she doesn’t want him to look out the doors. So he does.

“Well, well, well…” Tony says softly, looking at the concerned face of Steve Rogers through the glass. Concerned and resigned. _We lost._ Steve blanches when he notices Tony looking at him, and is gone in a flash of blonde hair and condescension. _Maybe not condescension, Stark. You might be projecting_.

“They just got back. Tony, look at me. Please, honey.” The vitals monitor is ringing softly, but Tony doesn’t need to look at it to know what it’s warning against. His heart rate had skyrocketed the minute he had seen Steve, the rage seeping back into him. Tony’s eyes fix on Pepper, the dimmed sunlight still able to catch the color in her hair. The light ginger strands, the blonde, the darker red. How many times had he buried his face in her hair, breathed in the scent of her shampoo? “That’s it, Tony,” Pepper squeezes his hand gently as the ringing alarm fades away.

“Pepper. I lost the kid. I lost him. I thought I lost you. Those messages, you didn’t – did you?”

The pain in her eyes tells him that she had received those messages. _A moment of weakness, Stark. You shouldn’t have done that. You thought you were doing her a kindness, but you were just fulfilling yourself. Trying to stave off your own guilt for leaving her._ “I’m sorry, Pep.”

She leans down and kisses the back of his hand softly, with such gentleness that Tony tears up, feeling them burn tracks down his cheeks. _She loves me. She **loves** me._

“Just rest, Tony. We’ll talk, I promise you that we’ll talk.”

“I can’t, Pepper. I can’t rest. I have to – I have to tell you, everything. We have so much we have to do. God, I love you so much. I was so angry, that I left, and that I didn’t tell you that enough. Because my dad hardly said it to my mom, **couldn’t** say it to my mom. I promise I’ll say it more often.”

“Shh,” Pepper gently folds a tissue before reaching out to wipe his tears away with it, and everything here is so soft. So soft compared to the harsh reality of Titan, and Thanos, and losing Peter.

“Peter,” Tony’s voice is thick. “He was on my hands, Pepper. My hands…” He looks down at his palms, they’d been washed since his return to Earth. “It was all I had left of him,” he gives out a humorless laugh. “All I had left of him was ash on my hands. And that’s gone too – oh, God.”

The vital machine starts to ring in warning again, as Tony sucks in as much air as he can, but it’s still not enough. _I’m out of oxygen. This is it. This is some dream, on that ship, I’m sucking in carbon dioxide. This is it, this is it._

“Breathe, Tony, just breathe,” Pepper is crying now, as she gently holds an oxygen mask up to his face, her hand cradling the back of his head. The oxygen is a cold rush of reality – how many times will he have to go through this? Tony’s eyes squeeze shut as he focuses on breathing, the wound in his abdomen, no longer infected but still healing, twinging in response to his panic and generally trying day. The mask is slowly lowered from his face, Pepper’s thumb brushing over his bottom lip gently, cautiously. _They’re terribly chapped, Pep. Need some Burt’s Bees. God knows I need more than that._

“What have they been doing, since I – passed out?” Tony grinds the words out, every part of his body is protesting now. Begging him to just sleep, to close his eyes and rest. He knows he won’t recover if he keeps this up, this desperate struggle to resist every attempt to help him. _I killed Peter Parker. My fault. Strange gave up the stone for my life. Why?_

“They went to find… Thanos,” Pepper gives the name a strange lilt, almost like when Tony had heard Thor say it. Tony would laugh, if he had the energy to. If it was funny. _**Is everything a joke to you?** Funny things are._ It didn’t seem like anything would ever be funny again.

“Judging by the look on Rogers’ face, they didn’t find him.” Tony is scrutinizing Pepper’s expression for any weak spot he can exploit, but she’s always had a better poker face than he could ever dream of having.

“They did. They killed him. Thor killed him, actually.”

Tony exhales slowly, feeling like he’s melting into the bed, a soup of blood, bone, and ash. Thanos, dead. It seems impossible, the titan had seemed so insurmountable, so unstoppable. The only way they could have killed them was if…

“He didn’t have the stones, did he?” Tony nods, not waiting for her answer. “He must have destroyed them. Must have been so weak but so satisfied in what he had done, that he didn’t put up a fight when they came. What’s the point, when you’ve won? And we’ve lost. We’ve lost.”

“Oh, Tony,” Pepper murmurs, cupping his face in her hands. She always knew what to do, had known him for so long that all of his idiosyncrasies were second nature to her. After New York, when his nightmares had woken her with terrible screams, she had learned when to touch him and when to comfort him with only words. He’s so starved for her touch, he wonders if he’s giving off some sort of signal to her, like a neon sign. _Touch me, Pepper. Touch me, and help me survive, help me come to terms with this._ He had dreamt of her touch in space, the way she’d laugh and brush her fingers over his forearm when he’d said something suggestive with a waggle of his eyebrows. The way her arms had wrapped tightly around him each time he had returned home from a mission, bruised and battered, but hers all the same.

“What are we going to do, Pepper?”

She leans in and kisses him gently, and maybe he’s not as disgusting as he thought he was. _Who would kiss roadkill? Certainly not Pepper Potts._ Tony sighs against her lips, his hands fighting the restraints again, but this time out of longing to hold her to him. Her forehead rests against his, emerald eyes boring a hole into his soul. What’s left of it.

“We’re going to take a break, Tony.” He must’ve gone rigid at that phrase, because Pepper shakes her head quickly and kisses him again, her long hair tickling against the skin of his neck. “No, not like that. Sorry, bad choice of words. I meant, the two of us, together. We’re going to build a life with each other. We’re going to get married. And we’re going to take a break, from all this.” Pepper waves her hand vaguely, and Tony knows exactly what she means. “We’re not giving up. You’re not giving up. I know you too well to expect that from you. And right now, it might seem hopeless. But you’re Tony Stark. In a few days, or weeks, or years, you’ll wake me up in the middle of the night with a solution to all this.”

Tony shakes his head, opening his mouth to tell her that she’s naïve. Didn’t she see it? Didn’t she see half the world – galaxy – universe – obliterated in an instant? Of course she had. She had told him as much, she had been in a board meeting for Stark Industries, and had watched most of the board disappear. She had stepped out on the street into chaos, cars careening into each other, those still alive attempting to stay that way as the world lost control. In a matter of seconds.

“Alright. A break.” _That doesn’t sound too bad, actually. Getting away from here, from everyone here, from the destruction. Somewhere quiet, where we can just be together. A hideout._ “You – you still want to get married?”

Pepper looks at him incredulously, and Tony is transported – just for a moment – back to her first day at SI. The incredulousness in her eyes as she had chewed him out about a massive budget mistake, whirling around on her towering heels to pepper spray Happy Hogan in the face. _Poor Happy. He actually thought I was in danger. I probably was. She’s incredible._ “Are you serious? Are you really asking me that, Tony?”

“I guess I thought I’d better just check in before we forge ahead on that. I’ve been known to be impulsive, but you’ve always been there to balance me out with level headed thinking…” Tony trails off, deciding that he’s digging himself deeper into a hole. “ _I’ll_ marry _you_ , Potts, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he tries with a weak grin.

Pepper shakes her head. “We’ve been through so much together Tony, I think it’s finally time, don’t you?”

Tony looks at her, thinking back on all the times they’d kissed, fought, danced, cried… “Yes, it’s time.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” Pepper straightens the sheet where it lies across his chest, her lips brushing against his cheek. “Rest now, okay? Just for a little bit.”

“Of course, Ms. Potts,” Tony says with a slight smile. _Just a break. Just a time-out. For us. It’s really not that bad of an idea. Wonder what Pep would look like in overalls, chasing after chickens?_ The sedative trickles through his tired body, and when it nudges him towards sleep, Tony – for once – doesn’t fight back.


	2. Chapter 2

“What about this iconic piece of fashion?” Tony gets a face full of his worn out, truly disgusting, MIT sweatshirt. It’s stained far darker than its original heather grey, from motor oil and hydraulic fluid – and as for the right sleeve, well… Dum-E had knocked over a cup of coffee once and it was the closest thing on hand.

“Thanks, Rhodey,” Tony mutters as he pulls the sweatshirt over his head. Another layer. He’s always cold these days, no matter how close Pepper holds him to her as they sleep or how high they turn up the thermostat. It’ll get better in time, Bruce had told him, as he puts on more weight. _Still look like a skeleton in the mirror though. Can’t seem to keep it on._ That’s why they had to get away from the compound as soon as possible, get away from the Avengers. Pepper had quietly suggested that this wasn’t the most healing environment for him after yet another nightmare – he hadn’t been out of the bedroom in three days, too worried about running into Steve, or Nat, or anyone. **_Why didn’t you do more?_** Tony had finally agreed, and now he’s standing in his old bedroom, packing up his things. “Sure I can’t convince you to come with?”

“Three’s a crowd,” Rhodey says, grimacing as he discovers a pair of bright pink briefs in the back of the closet. He holds them up with his pinky finger, as if they are radioactive. _They probably are. The last time I saw those… Was that the night with Pepper up against the big windows at the Tower? Yep. Definitely that night._

“You can toss those,” Tony bestows his mercy on Rhodey, watching as the other man flings the briefs into the waiting garbage bag without another word.

“Anyways, the Air Force is still around. Not that there are any wars going on, but there are people missing… Not everyone could have vanished, right? Some people might have just… taken advantage of the opportunity and disappeared. That’s what the government is thinking.”

“The Government,” the capital letters are audible in his sarcastic tone and Tony wags his fingers in quotations. “Boot-lickin’ til the end, huh, Rhodey?”

“Pot calling kettle, Tony – hast thou forgotten the Accords?”

Tony laughs, he can’t help it. For a moment, everything is normal. He is packing up all his belongings with the help of his best friend, like when they had moved out of the dorms at MIT for the last time – only to move into an apartment together less than a block away. He sits down on the edge of his bed, zipping up his suitcase, shoulders shaking with the last few chuckles that Rhodey can wring out of him.

“No, I’ve got a job to do,” Rhodey says as he picks the suitcase up for Tony and sets it on the ground, pulling up the handle. “You need to get better. Don’t worry about me, man. I’ll keep busy. You’ll keep in touch?”

“Scout’s honor,” Tony says, crossing his heart. Rhodey smiles, though – _is that pity I detect in those puppy dog eyes?_ He extends his hand, and Tony takes it, allowing the other man to pull him to his feet and into a hug.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Rhodey says softly, not letting go of him. Tony doesn’t let go of Rhodey either, grasping at the other man like the day he had been found in the sands of Afghanistan. “I meant it, you know. When I said you’d ride with me. I wish I had been there…”

Tony pulls away, patting Rhodey on the back. “No you don’t. I’m glad you weren’t. We both would have starved much faster. Hell, if we’d both survived fighting Thanos.” Both men would have died trying to protect the other from the mad titan, Tony is sure of that. _I promise I’ll take care of him, Mrs. Rhodes_. A promise made facetiously, shouted over the phone in the background the night Rhodey had turned 18, nothing but debauchery on their minds.

“You’re probably right,” Rhodey agrees, pulling Tony’s suitcase for him as the two men walk out of the bedroom and down the corridor, headed towards the front door where Pepper is waiting with the car. “Would’ve done it, though,” Rhodey says it so softly that Tony has to turn his head and look at him directly to hear it in its entirety. _Would have died for you, that’s what he’s telling me. He would have died for me, just like everyone on this fucking planet – in this fucking universe. My life for an Infinity Stone. **What** was Strange thinking?_

“I would’ve too,” Tony replies, reaching into the pocket of his jeans to pull out a pair of sunglasses, hiding his eyes before Rhodey could see the emotion expressed in them. “Take care of yourself, Rhodey.” He clasps his hand on the other man’s shoulder, grabs the handle of the suitcase, and wheels it to where Pepper has the trunk of the Audi popped.

As he settles into the passenger seat, Tony looks up at the compound, resting his hand against his face. Rhodey is waving goodbye to him, and that makes him grin – but when he looks just above him, on the second floor, he catches sight of them. Steve, Nat, Bruce. All three watching him silently as he abandons this life. _They all think I’m a coward_. Tony looks away quickly, reaching out to turn off the AC as Pepper pulls out of the drive and onto the road leading towards the gates. _They’re fools. We lost_. And yet… the thought is not as passionate as it had been the past few days, the strength squeezed out of it by the disappointed gaze of the team he was leaving behind. _Not family. **Never** my family._

* * *

 

“Hey Pep – did you ever read _The Stand_ by –?”

“Stephen King?” Pepper looks over at him with a knowing smile, tearing her eyes away from the road just for a moment. Not that there are many cars to look out for – though there are a bunch of abandoned ones pushed up against the hard shoulder of the road, most with their front and back ends crushed in, their drivers silent piles of ash merging with leather and fabric. “Yeah, in college. I see where you’re coming from.”

“Baby can you dig your man?” They both sing tunelessly in unison, and then burst into sudden laughter the dies just as quickly as it had lived. It dies because they are both staring out into a wasteland, it dies because Pepper is gripping the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles are white, afraid of a deer running out into the road and smashing into the front of the car. Less cars to be afraid of, more reason to cross the road. _God, I hope we don’t kill a deer._

Howard Stark had taken Tony hunting the day after his tenth birthday. He had swaddled him up in camouflage, armed him with a rifle (despite Maria’s protests), and headed out into the wilderness with an obscene amount of scotch in the backseat. He had gripped the back of Tony’s neck so hard it had left bruises that lasted for weeks, Jarvis quietly applying a salve to them every night, never once mentioning it to Maria. She had her own bruises to tend to. _Shoot the damn thing, Tony. Shoot it, it’s right there_. The smell of scotch so strong it had made Tony’s eyes water, his sweaty fingers slipping on the trigger – _Shoot the fucking deer, Tony!_ He can’t breathe, Howard’s grip on his neck is so tight that it’s an accident when he pulls the trigger. He lets out a horrified cry, the rifle clattering to the undergrowth. _Fuck’s sake!_ Howard hauls him away from it by the back of his jacket – _You never handle a gun like that._ And then there’s that horrible sound, a wailing moan just in front of them. The deer. Tony is dragged by the collar of his jacket, the fabric tearing, to where the deer lies. _Look what you did_. Tony is crying, his hands over his eyes, unable to look down at the bloody creature at his feet, clinging to life. _Look what you did_ , and this time Howard roars at him, smacking the back of his head so hard that his ears ring and his hands drop away from his face. Tony gazes at the deer, his face contorted in horror, stumbling away from it and back into the unyielding force that was Howard Stark. _No, Tony. You’re going to finish this_. A handgun is shoved into his too-small palm, and Tony tries to protest, but that fetches him another hit to the back of his head – a knot forming there. _I’msorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry_ Tony thinks frantically as Howard levels the gun at the deer’s head _I’msorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry_. He had sobbed all the way home. Howard had never taken him hunting again.

“Stop, Pepper,” Tony says suddenly, reaching out to open his door as Pepper slams on the brakes in response. She’s faster than he is, though, engaging the child lock just as he pulls forcefully at the handle. “Let me out,” Tony’s voice is low, angry, as he looks at the couple walking along the side of the road. Between them stumbles a little girl, she must be at most four, struggling to keep up with her parents. If they are even her parents. _Why are they walking? There are so many cars, they could just hotwire one – I could show them how. I could help them get wherever they’re going._

“No, Tony,” Pepper replies quietly, accelerating – slowly at first, and then fast enough that Tony has to twist in his seat and gaze out the rear windshield to see the figures as they are swallowed up by darkness.

“Why would you do that?” He snarls at her, reaching across her to turn off the child lock, as if he intends to hurtle himself out the door at high speed. Pepper’s hand wraps around his slender wrist, forcing it back to his side of the car, and her palm is slick against his skin with sweat. _I’m making her anxious_.

“Tony, do you think that people just accepted that this happened? That their loved ones disappeared without a cause? Do you think that they haven’t started laying the blame on someone? Why do you think Steve increased the security at the compound? It’s gone beyond death threats, Tony.”

He’s silent, his heart rising to his throat, pulse beating against his eardrums wildly. “They blame… me?”

There’s a beat, Pepper lets go of his wrist and gets both hands back on the wheel, but she’s tense. _God, she’s so tense. I’m sorry, Pep. I didn’t mean to yell at you. Didn’t mean to scare you._ “There are some people… who have traced this all back to when you came out as Iron Man. Some people who think that if you had kept it to yourself, none of this would have happened – New York, Sokovia, Lagos…”

“But…” Tony protests weakly, as if these aren’t the exact same thoughts that had been plaguing him since he had allowed Obadiah Stane to fall to his death. A grisly, terrible death. _He deserved it._ Mere moments after that thought, memories flash in his mind, just for a second. Obie playing catch with him when Howard refused, Obie taking him to the movies when Howard couldn’t be bothered to leave his office, Obie picking him up on the side of the street when he was too drunk to drive home. _No. He didn’t deserve it._

“I know, Tony. And you know it, too. But don’t you understand?” Pepper reaches out and grasps at his hand, her engagement ring cool against his skin. “We have to be careful. We have to keep to ourselves, at least, for a little while. We’re just Pepper and Tony right now, okay? We can’t be Pepper Potts and Iron Man, or else someone might… They might…” She swallows, unable to complete her sentence.

“Kill me.” Tony says hollowly, finishing it for her. Pepper squeezes his hand, raising it to her lips so she can kiss the back of it.

“We’re gonna be okay, Tony,” she whispers, forcing passion into her voice. If he doesn’t believe it, she’ll believe it for the both of them, until he can. “I promise, we’re gonna be okay.”

* * *

 

It isn’t the nicest hotel room he’s ever stayed in, he reflects, as he slowly shifts on his knees in front of the mattress. Thus far, no bed bugs had been discovered – and that was what was so fucking depressing about the place. It was spotless. Sure, there are some stains on the blanket that covers the sheets – _doesn’t everyone just throw that top blanket on the floor, though?_ – but the blanket itself smells clean. Tony had watched from the car as Pepper had gone inside to book them a room for the next week, and the employee behind the desk had looked at her with such disbelief – an almost hopeful disbelief – that Tony felt his heart sink. Theirs was one of perhaps ten cars parked in the lot all together. No, the room was so clean because there weren’t that many to clean anymore. No point, when there’s no one staying in them.

He pulls himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, his hands dangling between his knees as he stares at the door out into the corridor. Pepper had stepped out to take a phone call. _She’s probably calling Rhodey – telling him that she doesn’t know what to do with me. ‘He wigged out in the car, Rhodey. Shouted at me. Thought he was going to throw himself out of the car and disappear. I don’t know what to do, maybe we shouldn’t have left the compound…’_ Tony snorts, shaking his head _. Yeah, right. She was just as desperate to get out of that place as I was._

He glances over at the plastic bags on the bed – they had stopped at a picked over convenience store on their way into town. Tony had once again been left in the car, with Pepper regretfully reminding him that they were meant to be keeping a low profile. Tony Stark struggled with low profiles, so he sat in the growing darkness as the Audi beeped in response to Pepper hitting the lock button more times than she needed to. His curiosity about what she had purchased hadn’t really piqued until now. _While the cat’s away…_ Tony’s fingers reach out, the plastic rustling as he starts to pull a bag towards him, just as Pepper walks back into the room.

She’s not looking at him, _Thank God_ , instead she’s focused on locking them securely inside, going as far as to flip the deadbolt.

“Who were you on the phone with?” Tony asks her, casually retracting his hand in time for her to turn to face him.

“Work.” _She sounds tired_. Pepper walks over to where he sits, moving the bags aside so that she can sit beside him. She holds her head in her hands for a moment, allowing herself to indulge in some of the stress that she’s been feeling since the decimation. _My fault. God, I’m sorry Pep. I’m sorry I keep putting you through this._

Wordlessly, Tony wraps an arm around her waist, and exhales quietly as she rests her head against his shoulder. _At least I can still comfort her. At least I can still do **something**._

“We set up an emergency fund,” Pepper murmurs, nuzzling closer to him. _Can’t be too comfortable for her. I imagine I’m all bony angles and tension._ Tony holds her to him anyways. “For anyone who needs money. And any SI employees that come to work are getting paid, even if we aren’t… I’m not sure what to do, really. You know that big room in the lobby you suggested should house a Starbucks?”

“How could I forget?” Tony smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It was perhaps my brightest idea yet. The first thing that popped into my head after we toured the space.” _After we sold the Tower. Our baby, at one point. Now just a memory._

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Starbucks is opening any franchises in the near future… But we’ve set up a food pantry. And R&D is working on a way to clean up the wreckage responsibly. You know, all the boats floating in the ocean, and the planes that… that fell out of the sky.”

That was one of the worst things Tony had read about happening on Earth while he was on Titan. The pilots of commercial planes fading into nothingness thousands of feet above the ground, leaving their passengers stranded in midair, just for a moment before they died as well. _Not as quick, though. God, not quick enough._

“You’re doing your best, Pep.” _Reassuring boyfriend – wait – fiancé – you can do this, Stark._ “Those are great ideas, too, especially the food pantry.” One would think that food would be the opposite of scarce, since half of the population had disappeared. So had half of the livestock. Half of the people who tended to the fields. Half of the workers ensuring quality control in warehouses and factories around the world. The demand hadn’t fallen, not really – but the supply had. “What are you going to do with work, while we’re…?”

Pepper sighs, her eyes are closed – he can see that in the poorly placed mirror on the wall just in front of the bed. “I’m taking a break. I already got all of the approvals I needed. SI will be fine without me. I left protocols in place.”

“Of course you did,” Tony grins. _Would Pepper Potts really **be** Pepper Potts without protocols in place?_ His grip around her loosens as she shifts away, running her fingers through her hair with a sigh. Tony’s fingers twitch against her side, resisting the urge to run his own fingers through her hair. _It’s the longest I’ve ever seen it, I think. God, what I wouldn’t give to just…_ “What’s in the bags?”

Pepper brightens for a moment, reaching for the closest one. “I knew there wouldn’t be much in the way of a kitchen wherever we decided to stay, so I didn’t get anything remarkable. At least we have a microwave… and a minifridge.” She starts pulling out some browning bananas, bruised apples, battered boxes of Frosted Flakes, a box of popcorn, some microwave meals...

“Hey, Happy loves these things!” Tony grabs a box that claims to hold a traditional lasagna, inspecting it before he pauses. “Loved… Loved these things.” He sets the box down, the word sticking in his throat. _Loved. Because he’s gone. Dead._

Pepper’s fingers brush against his arm, pulling him out of his thoughts before he can sink too deep into them. “Like I said, it isn’t gourmet. But I did get a few of these.” She holds up three Kit Kats, and Tony slowly smiles. _My favorite. But she knew that._

“So, we’ve got groceries for a few days. That’s great thinking, Pep. But you’re really holding out on me on that other bag.”

“That’s because I don’t want you to get upset,” Pepper bites her bottom lip and looks at him uncertainly, holding the second bag closed tightly. “We have to lay low, remember? I thought this would help.” Slowly, she reaches into the bag, and pulls out… a razor.

He reaches up and brushes his fingers over his beard, always well-groomed and almost perfectly shaped. _Except for when you disappear into the void of space for 22 days. Hard to shave with a blow-torch._ “You want me to shave?”

“You know I love your beard,” Pepper says quickly, putting the razor on the bed between them. _She actually thinks I’m upset about this. Like I’m offended that she’s suggesting I shave. Am I really that close to the edge that she thinks a little thing like that is gonna tip me over it?_

“It’s okay, Pep,” Tony chuckles as he picks up the razor and starts to rip it out of its plastic packaging. “You’ve never seen me clean-shaven, I don’t think. So it’ll be a surprise for you. Me too, I forget what I look like under here. But it’s a good idea. A baseball cap and a pair of shades can only go so far. I’ll shave.”

“Good,” Pepper exhales, handing him the shaving cream next. “I really deliberated in front of the hair dye. I stood there thinking, what would Tony look like as a blonde? As a redhead? And then I thought…” She reaches up and brushes her fingers through his hair, Tony’s eyes closing in response – a sensation that always makes him feel at peace.

“You thought, why bother dyeing Tony’s hair when what he has in will grow out?” It’s no secret between them. Tony doesn’t even know why he still does it, in truth. It used to be vanity – oh, the scream that had issued from him when he had found his first grey hair. He was afraid of aging, if he was honest with himself. Afraid of looking in the mirror and seeing death staring back at him, a little more, day after day. But now, he had stared death right in the face. What was the point in dyeing his hair anymore? Who was going to see him and judge him?

“I always thought you looked good when you let the grey sort of… seep into your temples,” Pepper says with a smile, pulling her hand away.

“Good or hot?”

Pepper pauses, thinking it over as she starts to fold the cheap plastic bags from the store. Like they have a plastic bag to store all the folded plastic bags in. _Maybe we will have one, soon._ “Hot.”

“’Atta girl,” Tony replies, heaving himself onto his feet with the razor and shaving cream in hand. “I’m gonna go take care of this. Prepare for your eyes to melt out of your head.”

The water is mercifully hot as Tony splashes some onto his face, a towel slung over his bare shoulder to mop up any drips. _Could be blood. Haven’t gone to town on this face in a loooong time._ The shaving cream is familiar, though, another favorite brand. With all the things on her mind, Tony hopes that Pepper starts forgetting some of these minute details _. Surely one person can’t store all of that in their brain. They’d explode. It’s just too much._

He’s almost done when Pepper walks into the bathroom, placing their toothbrushes and toothpaste on the counter. She glances at him quickly in the mirror when she thinks he is too focused on the scrape of the razor against the underside of his jaw.

“I saw you checkin’ me out, Potts. You’ve gotta be more subtle than that. Come on, haven’t I taught you anything?” Tony grins at her in the mirror, rinsing the razor off and setting it aside. Pepper is starting to edge towards the door, and Tony catches her wrist. “C’mon, it’s not that bad, right?”

Pepper meets his gaze – _oh my God, she is blushing!_ “No, it’s not bad at all. It’s really… different.”

The towel almost slips from Tony’s shoulder as he steps towards her quickly, his arms around her waist, his lips pressing to hers with an underlying hunger. They’d kissed since his return, too many times to count. But always quick – not passionless – but quick, as if afraid that the other would fade away with too much pressure.

“Tony,” Pepper protests, her hands moving up to rest against his chest, as if she’s going to push him away. He shivers in response to the brush of her fingers against the scar from his arc reactor – an involuntary reaction, having her so close to what had once been the most vulnerable part of him.

“What, too fast?” _She doesn’t want you, Stark. She just can’t come out and say it yet, hasn’t found the courage to say it yet. God, you’re an idiot. Why would she want you, maybe she blames you, too. Like they all do._

He starts to pull away, and then her hands are at his shoulders, holding him in place. “No, not too fast,” she says softly, picking up the towel off of his shoulder. “You’ve just got shaving cream all over your face, that’s all.” Tony stares into her eyes as she slowly swipes the towel over his warming skin. “There…” she cups his cheek in her hand, her thumb brushing over his smooth skin.

“Nice, huh?” Tony murmurs, leaning in to kiss her again, and then again. Her fingers dig into his shoulders, grasping at muscle they are working on rebuilding – together.

“Shouldn’t have suggested it,” Pepper sounds exasperated. “Didn’t think it would inflate your ego.”

“Too late for that, Pep.” There’s no time for talking now, as they both begin to undress each other. Slowly, at first – almost hesitantly. Nothing like their first time, which had been frantic and fiery the minute the bedroom door had shut behind them. It transforms, though, Pepper muttering a curse under her breath as his jeans bunch around his feet, almost tripping him up on their way to the bed. The longing creeps in, the desperation. _Thank God you’re alive_ , is what every searing kiss imparts, Pepper gasping as his tongue traces a hot path down her neck.

“It's gonna be okay, Pep,” his voice is low as he guides her down onto the bed, the cheap mattress squeaking under their weight. _It has to be okay, just for a little while. God, please let it be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have found this story to be incredibly cathartic to write after seeing Endgame! I'm working on getting a set updating schedule, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

“Where are we going, Tony?” Pepper asks for perhaps the millionth time, and Tony’s fingers drum against the leather of the steering wheel as he blows through a four way stop. _No need to abide by those anymore._

“Did you want to keep staying at a hotel for… well, the rest of our… time out?”

Pepper makes a face, recalling the microwave meals they had been living on for the past two weeks. Going out to eat had been a consideration, but that was also damn depressing. One thing survived in this post-apocalyptic hell-scape, and it was McDonald’s. Pepper was not the biggest fan of McDonald’s. “No, I guess not. But…” Tony swears that he sees recognition flicker in her eyes as they turn down a quiet street; passing rows of houses that increase in ostentatiousness the further along they go. _Funny, I’ve never taken her here. She must’ve seen pictures. Or guessed._

“I haven’t been here since the funeral,” Tony admits, pulling the car into the long driveway that leads up to the imposing Victorian style house that was Stark Manor. “I paid for someone to do the upkeep every week or so. Her name is Sophia, she’s really nice.” _God, I don’t want to go in here. I don’t want to go in here and find it all dusty because Sophia is gone. I know she’s gone. No one’s mowed the lawn in weeks – she managed that. And if she’s not managing it, it’s because she’s dead._ Tony clears his throat, reaching up to rub at his smooth chin. “Well. There’s a full kitchen in there. A pool, too. Not that I’d recommend swimming in it, it’s probably filled with algae, now…”

Pepper isn’t saying anything, and Tony would pay any amount of money to know what she’s thinking in this moment. Tony has always been mostly honest with her, and she has a vague understanding of his relationship with his father. But he had never truly admitted what had gone on in this house. The only other people who knew were his mother, Jarvis, and Obadiah Stane. All three were dead.

“C’mon,” Tony says, killing the engine with a sigh. “We can pick whatever bedroom you want. There are like… sixteen. I used to sleep in a different one every night when I was ten, I found it fun. Magical, almost. Like I’d wake up a different person because I was waking up in a different bed.” _Shut up, Stark! Holy shit, shut up! That’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever told her_.

“That’s sweet,” Pepper smiles, opening her door to get out, but Tony is quite skilled at picking up subtext. _Sweet and sad, huh, Pep?_

Tony gets out of the car, meandering over to the trunk so that he can start unloading their suitcases. _The rose bushes are overgrown. Mamma would have a fit. I’ll fix that, while we’re here. I’m sure the lawn mower still works, too._ Tony Stark, sweating under the sun as he mows the lawn – Pepper would laugh, if she saw it. _Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d understand that I’m doing it as an act of… I don’t know. Penitence. And to make Mamma happy. Wherever she is. If she is anywhere._ Tony Stark was never one for an afterlife, and he was a lapsed Catholic, if a lapsed anything at all. A year ago, he would have laughed at the florid and sickly-sweet words people used to describe what waited after death. But now, now… _There has to be an afterlife – otherwise, where is Peter Parker? The boy can’t just be dead, can’t just be nothing._ He shakes his head slightly, he can’t ride this train of thought – next stop would be Insanity Station.

Delicately, Tony dislodges their suitcases from the back of the Audi, careful not to bump up against the boxes that house the parts of Dum-E and U. He had taken them apart during one of his manic phases at the compound, when he had felt too on edge to even step out to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He felt guilty about it, of course, but didn’t think he could handle a long car ride with the two robots whirring at each other. _Couldn’t leave them behind, though. They’re my family._

A young Tony Stark had told his mother the very same when she had caught him throwing a birthday party for Dum-E. Jarvis had supplied a small cake, and Tony had placed a birthday hat on the robot, using tape to keep it from falling off. It was a ridiculous thing for a fifteen year old to be doing, and Tony knew that, but… _he’s my family._

“Here,” Tony hands Pepper the big brass key that would allow entry into the manor, looming over them like a mausoleum filled with the moldering remains of Tony’s childhood. “Had to look all over for that key. I thought it melted it down a long time ago.”

The heavy wooden door swings open, and Tony admires the stained glass fit into the front of it, the sunlight filtering through it and tinting their feet and the front step in a multitude of colors. It is perhaps his favorite part of the house, the front door – both because he left through it, and because of the peace the glass was able to invoke in him within a moment.

“Wow, Tony,” Pepper whispers, taking a few cautious steps into the foyer. There’s a layer of dust on every surface, and Tony wipes out the small ceramic bowl where they’d always stored car keys before depositing his own inside. Without thinking, he bends down and takes off his shoes, setting them on the mat by the front door.

“You don’t have to whisper, Pep. I think we’re the only people here. Unless my childhood cat never really went to live on a farm when I was ten…”

“You had a cat?” Tony watches as Pepper follows suit, slipping off her own shoes, and he smiles because it’s perfectly domestic. Here they are, following Maria Stark’s rules, as if expecting her to whip around the corner and tell them that dinner is ready.

“Uh huh. Mr. Sweetheart. I found him in the bushes out front, he was just a kitten. He was all black, with little white feet and a little white patch on his chest. It almost looked like a bowtie. Anyways, my dad hated that name. Probably kicked Mr. Sweetheart into the pool and watched him drown.”

Tony starts walking towards the staircase; all the bedrooms were on the second and third floors. “C’mon, Potts. I think we should stay in the blue room, it was a personal favorite of mine. We can creep around and investigate after we get these bags unpacked.”

Pepper follows after him, carrying one of the suitcases while he carries the other. They set them down on the plush carpeting of the main corridor, Tony glancing at each bedroom door as they pass, his memory as impeccable as ever. “Here we are,” he nudges open the door with his foot, revealing the blue room. Its walls are a lovely light blue, like a robin’s egg – or a clear day.

“I would lie down on that bed, stare at the ceiling, and pretend I was flying through the sky,” Tony walks over to the four poster king sized bed, grimacing when a cloud of dust issues off of the duvet as he takes a seat. “Yeah, this is gonna need fresh sheets. Anyways, the blue room. Perfect for budding astronauts, like myself between the ages of five and seven. Gorged myself on freeze dried ice cream in here and threw up,” he points to the bathroom door, “in that particular toilet.” That’s one of his happier memories featuring this house.

Pepper sits beside him on the bed, taking his hand gently. “It’s really nice, Tony. It’s a nice bedroom… Where was yours?”

“I knew you were gonna ask that question. I don’t want to show you, really… I don’t know what state it’s in. Spotless, I’m sure – but… uh, probably embarrassing. I seem to remember a particular poster hanging on the wall that you’ll find amusing.”

“Let me guess, women in bikinis astride motorcycles, grinning with dead eyes looking directly into the camera?”

Tony chuckles and shakes his head. “Not quite. But just as embarrassing as that. If not more.” Tony sneezes suddenly, violently, barely able to get his elbow up to his face in time. “Jesus Christ, the dust. We’ve gotta change these sheets before I sneeze my brains out. I’ll find a duster in the cleaning supply closet. Jesus.” He pulls Pepper to her feet, glad he hadn’t sneezed into his hand, “But first… My childhood bedroom.”

* * *

 

“This is anticlimactic, Tony,” Pepper complains as she gazes into what looks like a normal bedroom, resting against his chest while he stands behind her.

Tony has to admit that she’s right, at least, from this angle. All they can see, standing in the doorway, is half of his neatly made bed and a bookshelf that Pepper hasn’t inspected too closely. “We have to go inside to get the full effect.” He nudges her over the threshold, and Pepper is barely able to contain the beginnings of a giggle when she sees it.

Hung in a place of reverence over the head of Tony’s bed is a Captain America poster. Not just any Captain America poster, as Howard had told him countless times. Vintage, priceless. One of ten ever printed. It features a drawing of Steve Rogers in his USO uniform, with its bright colors and stupid little flaps of winged fabric at the sides of his head. _The Star Spangled Man with a Plan_ proclaims the top of the poster in screaming red, white, and blue letters. _Not so much of a plan, huh, Rogers? Unless losing was always your plan. Unless this was all one cosmic joke you were in on, to let me try to handle it on my own knowing I’d fail. But I tried. Where were **you**?_

“Wow, Tony,” Pepper’s cheeks are pink from the effort of holding back her laughter. “You really were a fanboy, huh?” Her slight smile fades at the implication, that Tony Stark’s childhood hero had betrayed him. Had always made it seem like he barely tolerated him, let alone liked him. _It’s not so funny anymore._

“I guess so. In fairness, my dad hung it up. But, you know, I always heard these fantastic bedtime stories about Captain America, so I never really wanted to take it down. And then I was at boarding school, and then MIT. I was only home for the holidays, and I never really stayed the night.” _No, I was too busy getting shitfaced at some bar every night, desperately trying to avoid any sort of contact with my dad._ “Anyways, there you go. You’ve seen perhaps the most embarrassing thing this house holds. Actually, if you go digging around in my mother’s closet, you’ll probably find photo album after photo album filled to the brim with pictures of young, naked Tony Stark having what appears to be a fantastic time in the bath. I’m not gonna go looking for those for you, though.”

In fact, his parents’ bedroom is strictly off limits, at least to him. Tony walks over to the bookshelf, turning his back on Pepper while she runs her hand over the tightly drawn quilt pulled across his mattress. She’s used to seeing his bedroom in disarray, in her many years of knowing Tony Stark, he had never once made his bed. But in this house, it seems like she’s dealing with a different Tony Stark. A reminiscent, guilty Tony Stark, haunted by the ghosts of his parents. They have nowhere else to go, though, nowhere else to hide – at least, not right now. And perhaps Tony had brought her here for a reason, though she’s not quite sure why he would do this to himself. Unless he’s punishing himself…

“Aha,” Tony says quietly, nudging aside pieces of circuitry and frayed wires that are scattered across the shelves. There are books, too, dusty with disuse. What he’s really after, though, is an action figure. Not just any action figure, he would insist. _King Arthur_. Tony carefully picks up the piece of plastic, rubbing it against the front of his shirt in an attempt to remove the dust. King Arthur’s greying tunic transforms into an illustrious red with further intense rubbing against Tony’s shirt, and his crown is soon gleaming gold, Excalibur clutched tightly in his fist. Tony can recall countless times he had sat cross legged in front of this very bookcase, his various toys arranged in a circle around him. Countless successful missions had been completed by the Knights of the Round Table – sometimes they had to ride along the back of Mr. Sweetheart to get to where they were going, which was begrudgingly endured by the cat. Tony would prowl around the house, chasing after the cautious cat, scooping him up in his arms and running up the stairs with him before Mr. Sweetheart could claw and hiss his way out of Tony’s grasp. With the bedroom door firmly shut behind him, to keep Mr. Sweetheart in and Howard Stark out, Tony could get lost in the fantasy of whatever his brain had cooked up that day for King Arthur and his merry band of knights.

“You hungry, Pep?” Tony asks, surreptitiously slipping the action figure into his pocket. At first he questions why he’s doing it, playing dumb with himself. Walking over to where Pepper is standing, pouring over the framed photographs on his nightstand, he knows better. _You’re taking it with you because you want your kid to have it. Sure, some people inherit jewelry or tea sets, or whatever. You’re gonna pass down an action figure to your kid. Why? Because… Because._ Because it is the most valuable thing in this house.

“You think there’s food here?” Pepper tears her gaze away from the picture of Tony and Rhodey at college, each boy with his arm slung around the other’s shoulders, grinning from ear to ear.

“Sophia always kept something. Nothing perishable, otherwise the fridge would be a nightmare of rotting food. I think she kept it in case I… found myself here, I guess. There’s probably bread in the freezer, and I know for sure there’s peanut butter and marshmallow fluff in the pantry…” There had always been, ever since Tony was little. He could expect a peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich awaiting him on the kitchen counter when he returned from school – a pre-dinner secret that was kept from Maria Stark by Tony and Jarvis.

“That sounds sickening,” Pepper shakes her head, but she’s smiling as she takes his hand and allows him to lead her out of the bedroom. The door shuts behind them, the weight of King Arthur in his pocket seemingly growing with each step.

“Pepper, you wound me. I assure you, I’m an excellent preparer of peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwiches. I’ve received Michelin stars for my work – uh, all three of ‘em.” He glances over his shoulder at the door to his childhood bedroom while they walk down the hall towards the stairs. _Let’s keep that door closed while we’re here. It was a safe place, thirty years ago. But I don’t need to hide anymore, not in this house. I can do whatever I want. My kid’s not gonna hide in their room because they’re afraid I’ll catch them playing with their toys. No, I’m gonna play with them – Pepper will too._ “I’m gonna blow your mind with this sandwich, Potts.” _And that’s a promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, kudosing, and commenting! wait... what's that i hear... wedding bells in the next chapter? ;)


	4. Chapter 4

It’s been just over two months since they quietly moved into Stark Manor, and the house has finally begun to look just as good as it had when Maria Stark had been running it. Tony had spent long days outside, pruning the rose bushes, mowing the lawn, recalibrating the chlorine in the pool so they could take a swim if they wanted to. Each day that passed, he had put on more weight, until he almost looked exactly like he had when he had left Earth on that alien spaceship months ago, not knowing what the future would hold for him – except now he had more of a tan and his hair had a healthy amount of grey streaking through the brown. His evenings were even longer, he and Pepper sat on the couch, discussing their wedding.

“Remember how I asked Pete --,” Tony almost cut himself off at the sudden flare of pain in his chest, his muscles and bones still trying to knit together to cover the wound that the loss of Peter Parker had wrought about in his soul, the hole still gaping, the pain still blinding. “Remember how I asked Pete to be the ring bearer?” He forges ahead, and the pain starts to fade, replaced by delight as he recalls the kid’s excited face. “God, he was ecstatic.” Pepper had squeezed his hand, smiling along with him. There was no need for a ring bearer now.

They had circled back to having a small wedding, eventually, and had pared it down further to a courthouse wedding. Just the two of them, at first, and then Pepper had quietly begun to suggest that they invite a few people – just a few, as witnesses. They shouldn’t be alone, she had argued, they didn’t **need** to be alone.

That had led to a phone call to Rhodey, who had merrily accepted. Next was a phone call to Bruce, who had accepted after a long, hesitant pause. Now… Now…

Tony stands in front of the mirror, phone in one hand, razor in the other. He had grown his goatee back in, and decided this morning that it needed shaping before tomorrow’s big day.

The line connects, and even though there’s silence on the other end, Tony starts to speak – afraid that if he doesn’t, he’ll just hang up.

“Agent Romanoff, it’s Tony. How ya doing?” This phone call had kept him up at night for the past week, plotting dialogue in his head, a script he could follow. The day he had left the compound, Tony had fervently thought that the people gazing down at him from their high and mighty superhero thrones were not his family. In the days that had followed, he had done some serious soul searching while elbows deep in the lawn mower’s engine, cursing loudly to himself as he struggled to get it to work. Two of those people had made the cut as his family, but one… Steve… _He won’t be getting an invite to my funeral, let alone my wedding._

“Tony.” Natasha sounds stunned, and he can hear something clatter in the background, like a cup or a plate being set down heavily on a table. “I wasn’t expecting – how are you? Where are you? Are you and Pepper okay?”

Tony sets the razor down, wiping away some of the residual shaving cream and looking at himself in the mirror. “We’re both fine, Nat. More than fine, actually – uh, the reason I’m calling you is to see if you can get yourself to Long Island by tomorrow at roughly one o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Long Island?” He can see her now, scrambling to the nearest computer or tablet, trying to find out if there was anything Earth-destroying happening in Long Island tomorrow afternoon. “Why, did you hear something? Have you figured it out, Tony?”

**_It_**. The Infinity Stones. Bringing everyone back, undoing what had happened. “No.” Tony looks away from himself, walking out of the bathroom, trembling fingers flipping the light switch down. _No big ideas. Nope, no solution to that. They’re gone._ “No, Pepper and I are getting married tomorrow. We’d like you to be there. I’ll text you the address. It’s just gonna be a small thing, at the courthouse. You, Rhodey, and Bruce. No long ceremony, or anything. We’re even skipping vows.” They had made vows to each other long ago, anyways. _You’re all I have. **You’re all I have too, you know.**_ “Pep and I’ll throw a little reception here, you guys can stay the night if you get too drunk, and that’ll be that.”

What follows is silence, so long and deep that Tony pulls the phone away from his ear to look at the screen, convinced that Natasha must’ve hung up.

“I’ll be there,” she says quietly, and Tony thinks that she might be crying – if not crying, definitely feeling some sort of emotion. “Of course I’ll be there. You’ll text me the address?”

“Yeah,” Tony is surprised to hear himself speak, initially believing that he had been stunned into silence by her agreeing to come. They hadn’t exactly parted on good terms, even before Thanos. “Yeah, I’ll text you the address… Thanks, Nat.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” _She’s not even lying – she really means that._ With that, Natasha hangs up, and Tony stares in amazement at his phone, lowering it onto the bed.

“Hey Pep,” Tony calls down the hall, Pepper is busy tidying up some of the guest bedrooms in case one of their wedding guests stayed the night. It had taken them ages to remove all the dust in the house. “Nat’s gonna come. She’s gonna come.” He picks up the phone, typing the address in a text to Natasha Romanoff, grinning like an idiot. _She’s gonna come to my wedding._

* * *

 

It’s an incredibly quick ceremony – one minute they are engaged, the next minute, they’re married. There’s a moment, as they stand together hand in hand, when Tony looks just over Pepper’s shoulder. It’s a beautiful day outside – their initial wedding was supposed to take place outside anyways, on a lakefront somewhere – and sunlight spills in from the gothic windows of the courthouse. Blindingly bright, and Tony’s eyes widen slightly as he stares into it. He can see, just over her shoulder, just out of reach – Happy, Peter, his mother. All stood together, all watching him as he gets married to the love of his life. Tony’s heart starts to race, sweat trickling down his temple, his hands trembling in Pepper’s. I _t’s not real, Tony. They aren’t here. Focus. Focus._ Looming behind them, a purple giant, golden gauntlet glinting. _Not here. Gone. Thor killed him. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay._

“Tony,” Pepper whispers, squeezing his hand. “Look at me, Tony.” He tears his gaze away from the hazy figures in the sunlight, focusing his eyes on Pepper’s. There’s safety in the depths of her green eyes, security – love, too. A tiny bit of worry. Tony jumps slightly when she slides the wedding ring onto his left hand, looking down at the shining silver band. It is simple, but it is everything.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the official says, and Rhodey cheers wildly behind the camera he has held up to his face. Tony blinks. _We’re married. Holy shit, I just married Pepper Potts. Pepper Stark?_ He starts to smile, feeling like he’s going to burst with joy. _We’re okay._ His lips press to hers softly, a chaste kiss considering the present company. Tony’s forehead rests against hers when he breaks the kiss, and in that moment it is just the two of them, alone together.

“Bet you didn’t think this would happen when you showed up for a job interview eleven years ago,” he murmurs to her with a wink, and she laughs, squeezing his arm.

“Never even crossed my mind, even when you looked at me with those big brown eyes. C’mon, Mr. Stark. Let’s go sign the marriage certificate.”

Their signatures are joined by the signatures of James Rhodes, Natasha Romanoff, and Bruce Banner. Rhodey pats him on the back, Nat gives him a hug, and Bruce just smiles – though he seems distracted. They all pile into their respective cars, following after Tony as he escorts them to Stark Manor, where a small reception awaits.

* * *

 

Despite their tidying of the guest bedrooms, when ten o’clock rolls around, their guests are ready to go. Rhodey has to hurry to Washington to be debriefed for something, so he says his goodbyes while pouring another glass of champagne for the bride and groom.

Tony and Bruce stand out in the front yard, Tony sipping at his champagne as they watch Rhodey drive away.

“Hey, Tony,” Bruce starts, and then stops for a moment. “How much do you know about gamma radiation?”

“Oh, a smattering. Not as much as you do, I’d never presume to be the expert.” He grins over at Bruce, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you ask, Dr. Banner?”

“I had an idea. I think it might be dangerous, though, but I was wondering if you would be interested?”

Tony looks over at where Pepper and Natasha are standing, watching as the two women embrace, Natasha smiling about something Pepper had just told her. Pepper is glowing. _She’s glowing, and not just because you got married today. You know why she’s glowing, Stark._ He thinks back to the King Arthur action figure, tucked safely away in his suitcase, to be taken out when the need arose. Tony is more observant, these days, and since living with Pepper, he had caught on to the schedule of her period. They hadn’t spoken about it, of course, but… _She’s glowing._

“Nah, Bruce. I think I’m gonna have to pass on something dangerous for the next…” _rest of my life_ “… couple of months.”

Bruce looks disappointed, and then clasps him on the shoulder as he roots around for the car keys hiding in his pocket.

“I understand, Tony.” He holds up his car keys triumphantly, the headlights illuminating in response to him unlocking the car. “It’s a crazy idea, anyways. Might not even work. Probably a pipe dream.”

“Let me know how it goes,” Tony means it – he’s this close to asking Bruce what his idea is, not wanting his friend to put himself in danger. _Can’t afford to think like that, though, Stark. If Bruce wants to do it, he’s going to do it._ “Thanks for coming,” he says, walking over with the other man, opening the driver’s door for him so that Bruce can slide inside.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Bruce says, waving at Pepper – and then he’s gone, his taillights blinking in the darkness, abiding by the stop sign at the top of the street before turning to head back to wherever he’s holing up these days.

Tony ambles over to where Natasha and Pepper are standing, preoccupied with his sudden realization. _I think I’m gonna be a dad_.

“Take care of yourself,” Natasha tells him as she gives him a hug, and now Tony thinks those words have a double meaning. “Keep in touch, please,” she tells both of them seriously, and Tony salutes her.

“You’ve got it, Agent Romanoff. Drive safe.”

He and Pepper stand in the front yard long after their final guest had departed, his arm around her waist, holding her close to him. There’s a chill in the air, and Tony shrugs off his suit jacket when he feels her shiver against his side, wrapping it around her shoulders.

“Do you wanna go inside?”

“No,” Pepper murmurs, brushing a kiss against his neck. “It’s a nice night out. We could go sit down, though.”

“You’re full of good ideas, Ms. Potts,” Tony replies, feeling a blush spread over his skin from where her lips had pressed against it. They walk slowly back into the house, Tony grabbing a throw blanket off the couch as they pass through the living room and out the sliding glass doors to the pool deck.

“Not Ms. Potts,” she corrects him, pulling him down onto the chaise lounge they keep out on the deck. “It’s Mrs. Stark, now.”

Tony hums in agreement as he gets comfortable with her, wrapping the two of them up in the soft blanket, smiling as Pepper curls herself around him. Her head rests against his chest, his fingers brushing through her hair as he looks up at the sky.

It is an exceptionally clear night, Tony’s eyes tracing over constellations as he looks up at the stars. Once, he had longed to fly beyond them. When he was a boy, face pressed up against the telescope at his bedroom window, excitedly telling his mother all of the things he would find once he went to space. What he had found, though, was death. He closes his eyes, remembering how he had hurtled down to the portal that was his last link to Earth. How the stars had seemed cold and unfriendly, the endless possibilities held by space replaced with endless horror. He has no interest in space travel now. Not after the nuke, and not after Titan.

“What are we going to do, Tony?” Pepper’s question brings him back down to Earth, his eyes blinking open.

“Well,” he pauses for a moment, “I was thinking we could have sex.”

Pepper laughs, shaking her head against his chest. “No. Well, I mean – yes. We’re going to do that. It’s our wedding night, after all. But I really meant, what are we going to _do_? We can’t stay here.”

_No, we can’t. I’ve run out of things to fix here. It’s not home, not really, not without Mamma._

“I’ve been thinking… researching, actually.” Tony admits, holding her closer to him, her legs tangled with his under the blanket. “You ever go up to the Finger Lakes region? Up by Syracuse? Great area – all these little villages, and quiet houses. And the lakes, God, the lakes are gorgeous. Anyways, I – well, this was gonna be more dramatic. It’s your wedding present, really. Damn, the tablet is inside.” He looks around for his sunglasses, feeling over the breast pocket of his jacket, presently worn by Pepper Potts. Anything he could use to project the pictures he had cultivated these past few weeks.

“Tony, are you going to finish your sentence, or are you really feeling me up right now instead?”

He blushes all the way to the tips of his ears, grinning at her apologetically, his face burning. “No, no, Pep. I’m not feeling you up. I _could_ be feeling you up, if you want me to feel you up. I’m just looking for my sunglasses.”

“You left them in the car,” Pepper says dryly, but her hand finds his under the blanket, holding it against her chest so that he can feel her heartbeat against his palm. “You were saying?”

“You know how you’ve been asking what I’ve been doing in my dad’s old ‘shop?” That had been strictly off limits throughout Tony’s childhood, he’d catch a beating for even peering into the room let alone stepping inside – unless he was summoned. Now that Howard Stark wasn’t there to bust him riffling through his things, Tony had done exactly that. He hadn’t found anything particularly interesting, aside from a few scandalous pictures of other women tucked away in the back of one of his father’s old journals. Old mistresses, he’d assumed. Once he had exhausted his desire to snoop, Tony had made the workshop his own, rebuilding U and Dum-E and getting to work on his next project.

“This would be more exciting with pictures,” Tony complains with a sigh. “Anyways, I bought us land. On Skaneateles Lake. Unrestricted, so that we could have a little farm. And a garden, of course. Two acres, all lakefront. Skaneateles, it’s a nice little village. I went when I was a kid, with my mom – we’d always get ice cream cones from Doug’s and sit out by the lake eating ‘em. I’ve got the blueprints all drawn up, but they’re preliminary. I want you to help me build it, and we can do whatever you want to do with the land. The winters will be hard, because it gets a lot of snow – but I’m handy with a snow shovel. You can put me to work... But I want us to build a house there. A home. For you and me, and for…” his hand slips from her chest to her abdomen wordlessly, swearing to God that he feels a little swelling there.

Pepper sits up slightly, turning so that she can face him, her mouth agape. “How did you know? It was supposed to be… a surprise.” Tears brim in her eyes, but she’s smiling. _Happy tears. God, that’s a nice change._

“I’m very observant, Pepper.” Tony sounds offended, though he’s grinning like an idiot at her. “I’m a regular Sherlock Holmes. I have long since honed my budding skills when I linked you and strawberries together and almost sent you into anaphylactic shock.”

Pepper throws her arms around his neck, nearly choking him, and Tony laughs against her lips as she kisses him desperately. Her fingers brush against the hair curled at the nape of his neck, and goosebumps rise on his skin in the wake of her touch.

“Are you really pregnant?” Tony asks her, his voice barely more than a whisper. It was one thing to joke about it, to act like an idiot, to think he’s a genius that’s cracked the case. It’s another thing to hear her actually say it.

“Yes,” her lips brush over his jaw, her kisses trailing down his neck while her fingers nimbly work to undo the small white buttons of his dress shirt.

Tony exhales shakily at the confirmation, his own fingers finding the zipper at the back of her dress, his suit jacket and the throw blanket falling to the ground with a sweep of his arm.

“Really pregnant?”

Her lips brush over the scar left behind by his arc reactor. His heart. “Really pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Building a house in less than nine months would be an impossible task for anyone other than Tony Stark. He insists on doing it alone – just the two of them. It’ll make it more of a home, he argues, if they pour their blood, sweat, and tears into it. _You take a load off, though, Potts_ , Tony would always insist, placing a foldable lawn chair in front of where he was working that day for her to sit on and watch.

In the first month, they appropriate a cabin next door to their land, a fortuitous discovery that they can thank the decimation for – the owners had just disappeared. There is no one to pay rent to, but he and Pepper keep the place immaculately clean, in case the day arrived when the owners returned home. The small pile of ash they had found in the living room when they had snuck in guiltily after Tony had jimmied the lock suggested otherwise, but they take care of the place all the same.

The blueprints are perhaps what took the longest amount of time to agree on. There was the consideration of what was possible for one man to build in less than a year’s time, which meant that Tony’s twenty bedroom McMansion was promptly shot down. Pepper was instrumental in designing the four bedrooms, becoming quite the genius when it came to using the software Tony had invented long ago to visualize his ideas. Four bedrooms, the perfect number – one for them, one for the baby, one for guests, and one for… He tries not to get ahead of himself, but it’s only a few weeks after Pepper had told him that she was pregnant before Tony is falling asleep each night dreaming of a gaggle of children following after him as he putters about the garden. _Yeah, a gaggle of kids would be nice_.

Tony accompanies Pepper to every doctor’s appointment that he can, watching in awe as the ultrasound image of their child becomes a little more discernable every time. They have a brief argument over whether or not they want to know the sex of the baby, though they aren’t truly arguing – they haven’t done that in a long time. It’s more like a playful sparing, and ultimately, Pepper wins. Tony squeezes her hand tightly as the doctor takes a look at the monitor, thoughtfully swiping the ultrasound wand over Pepper’s gel covered abdomen.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Stark. You’re going to be having a little baby girl. See here?”

Tony shifts, his nose almost pressed against the screen, his eyes wide. A baby girl. _Hey, little one. Mom and I are gonna take such good care of you. You stay in there for now, Daddy’s making a kickass bedroom for you._

Fueled with newfound passion, Tony works harder every day on the house – laying the foundation, hauling heavy logs with his own two hands, setting tile and drywall. Pepper always offers her help, and Tony always declines it. _You just stay comfortable, Pep, and enjoy the show._ The show usually featured Tony’s sweaty shirt as it was flung at her head, Pepper always catching it with a laugh.

At night, Tony’s mind always whirring, he settles down in bed beside Pepper and sets to work on the stack of books precariously balanced on his bedside table. _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ , he blows through that one, the Mayo Clinic’s _Guide to a Healthy Pregnancy_ starts feeding into his anxiety when he reads all of the things that can go wrong, and _The Expectant Father_ makes him nervous. He has to be better than Howard Stark, he tells himself as he reads, Pepper dozing quietly, tucked against his side. No, more than that – _I will be better than my father. I will give her everything I never had._

Once he’s become an expert on pregnancy, newborns, and taking care of his pregnant wife, that leaves him with nothing to occupy his anxious mind at night. He has an epiphany at the seven-month mark, scooting down so that he can rest his head against Pepper’s belly. He is treated to a sharp kick against his head, and Pepper laughs, her fingers threading through his hair, gently brushing over the curls that crop up when he allows it to get a bit of length.

“She has your attitude about bedtime, Tony.”

“Not to worry, Morgan. Allow your father provide you with ASMR to coax you into sleep … Please don’t kick me in the head again, I’ve still got to tile the roof…” There had been no further discussion on a first name, that had been decided almost a year ago, courtesy of Tony’s dream. The middle name was easy, too, Maria. Morgan Maria Stark. “Now, Mini M&M – though, you’re not so mini anymore.” Another kick, and Tony grins. “I think we’re gonna get started on Harry Potter tonight, okay? Then, once we finish that, I’m thinking some Tolkien. We’ll probably wrap it up with some Arthurian legends, of course. Gotta make sure you’re as much of a nerd as me. Hmm, hey Pep?”

He glances up at his wife, her eyes closed as her fingers stroke through his hair. He feels her hum sleepily in response to her name.

“Do you know where all my Star Wars novels went? I feel like I put a box of them down in the kitchen, but I can’t find them.”

“I put them in the office, in the house,” she murmurs, eyes barely opening. “I don’t know if I can handle the two of you swinging lightsabers around our brand new house.”

“I won’t engage in lightsaber battles with our daughter,” Tony swears solemnly, though his fingers are crossed under the covers. _I most definitely will engage in lightsaber battles with our daughter… If only you knew the power of the dark side._

Tony opens his worn copy of _Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone_ , clears his throat, and softly reads to their daughter in Italian. His mother had insisted that Tony learn both English and Italian as a child, and he feels some compulsion to insist the same for his daughter. How many inside jokes had he shared with his mother that his father had been unable to understand? Too many to count. It had mostly been due to lack of trying, Maria had done her best to teach Howard the language, but he had been uninterested. Pepper, on the other hand, is learning the basics. Her fingers slowly still in his hair, and Tony smiles softly as he reads – she’s asleep. Judging by the intermittent kicks to his head, Morgan is getting there, too.

* * *

 

They move into the new house a week before Pepper’s due date, and while it’s still a bit of a shambles, it’s complete – except for the porch. _The bedrooms take precedence_ had been Tony’s mantra _, and then the bathrooms take precedence, and then the kitchen takes precedence_ , and then _oh fuck, I forgot the porch_. After Pepper wrenches one last splinter from his palm with the tweezers that he had come to hate, Tony runs a bubble bath for her in their claw-foot tub. He sits on the toilet lid, chatting with her as she bathes.

“So, I was thinking tomorrow, we could run out to Home Depot again, I think the guest bedroom could do with another coat of paint.”

Pepper rolls her eyes, “Tony, that’s gotta be like the fiftieth coat of paint you’ve put on those walls. Rest. You built us this house, and it’s wonderful – I’m almost willing to say perfect. But soon, we won’t be able to walk into the guest bedroom because all the layers of paint will have grown out and met in the middle of the room. It will just be a cube of paint. And then we’ll be down to three bedrooms. Come here, Tony.”

Tony shifts off of the toilet and kneels in front of the tub, the dark circles under his eyes brilliantly purple under the vibrant bathroom lights.

She swipes a handful of bubbles over his nose. Tony blinks, at a loss for words. “You’re worrying.”

“Yes.”

Pepper leans in and kisses him softly. “Stop worrying. We’re going to be okay.” She nuzzles her nose against his. _Now we both have bubble noses. An interesting adaptation for humankind, a brilliant and unexpected microevolution. But for what purpose? Perhaps for a courting ritual..._ “I love you, Tony.”

“I love you too, Pep.”

“Good,” she grins, reaching out for his hand. “Can you help me up?”

* * *

 

“FRIDAY?” Tony’s whisper sounds ghostly as he prowls around the house, it’s nearing two in the morning. He had laid awake beside Pepper for what felt like years, staring up at the ceiling and imagining that every little creak of the house around them was a warning that there’s an intruder within. He checks the nursery, first – they had painted it a lovely light green, to match the jungle theme. He had reached out and gently pushed the mobile, watching the elephants, giraffes, and lions spin around in a circle. The window was locked. All the windows in the house were locked – the front and back doors were locked, the oven was off, the fridge had been firmly shut.

"The house is secure, boss,” and while he hadn’t programed FRIDAY to have as much of an attitude as J.A.R.V.I.S., he swears that he detects exasperation in her tone.

“Alright,” Tony twists the handle of the front door again, just to make sure. Still locked. He holds his hands up in surrender, trudging up the stairs to their bedroom. “Fine, the house is secure. I’m going to bed.”

“Good night, boss.”

He crawls under the covers, Pepper turning in her sleep to press against him, sighing as his arms wrap around her as they do every night. _The house is fine, we’re fine. Go to sleep, Stark. Go to sleep._

“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice is trembling, and Tony turns on his heels to look at the boy. The air is thin, the stab wound in his side is aching, and the dust of Titan makes his eyes water. _No. Not again, I can’t go through this again._ He hurries over to the boy, wrapping him in a fierce hug, believing this time that he’ll be able to keep him safe. This time, the strength of his arms around Peter Parker will keep him from crumbling into dust.

“I don’t feel so good.”

“No, Peter,” his hands scrabble against the smooth surface of the Iron Spider suit, feeling the warmth of the living, breathing boy beneath his palms. “No, Pete. You’re all right, I promise. I’ve got you, I swear. Just hold on, stay with me, it’s gonna be okay.”

“Mr. Stark… Ms. Potts?” Tony is suddenly hugging nothing more than dust; it soaks into his clothes and darkens his palms.

“Peter?!” He spins around, searching for the boy, and then he sees the object of Peter Parker’s final moments of confusion. Pepper is sprawled across the ground, deathly pale, and covered in blood. Her blood. The baby… Tony staggers towards her, falling to his knees beside her. His hands press to her abdomen, blood instantly rushing between his fingers. Soaking over the backs of his hands. _This is your legacy, Stark. A man who has everything, and nothing._

“Pepper, honey.” He’s crying as he gathers her into his arms and holds her to him. “No, please don’t go. Don’t leave me, Pep. I need you. Don’t go.” Her head lolls against his shoulder, her green eyes open but unseeing. “Please,” he sobs, “Please don’t go.”

* * *

 

Tony sits bolt upright in bed, his chest heaving, blankets pooled around his waist. _Jesus Christ. I’ve wet the bed_. His hands grasp at the damp fabric below him, cold sweat trickling down his spine.

“Pepper --.”

“Tony --.”

“I think I --.”

“—My water just broke.”

Tony’s hands unfurl against the sheets, his heart skips a beat, and then speeds into overdrive. _Her water broke. Oh my god, her water broke. We gotta – I gotta…_

“Tony,” Pepper reaches out for him in the darkness, her hand brushing over the damp skin of his chest, feeling his heart race. “Breathe. Breathe. I’m gonna go get changed. Can you get the hospital bag, honey?” Pepper seems to be keeping her head on straight, but Tony is losing it, he can practically feel all the information about pregnancy and childbirth that he had read trickling out of his ears like sludge.

“The – the hospital bag. Yes. Yes. That. I can get that. I can get that!” He scrambles out of bed, tugging off his boxers and throwing them blindly into the hamper while Pepper slowly makes her way to the bathroom. Tony rips all of the sheets off the bed, running his trembling fingers through his hair over and over again. _The hospital bag. Clothes. Have to put clothes on. Can’t go to the hospital naked. **Could** go to the hospital naked. Might get kicked out. Can’t get kicked out, my kid is gonna be born._ Tony pulls on clothes, not caring that nothing matches – jeans, a long sleeved shirt on backwards, and mismatched socks. He bundles the sheets into the washing machine, setting it going without thinking about how they’re not going to be back for a few days. He hurries back up the stairs to their bedroom, tripping over the hospital bag they kept by the door. He flies into the wall with a groan, his nose aching from impact. _No time for this. No time to be stupid. Hospital bag._

He picks it up easily with one hand, despite the weight of what seemed to be Pepper’s entire wardrobe inside. Tony had definitely put on some muscle since building the house, to Pepper’s delight. He cocks his head when he hears a groan from the bathroom, and hurries towards it.

“Honey?” He asks hesitantly, staring at Pepper’s tense body where she’s hunched over the bathroom sink. _Oh my god, she’s gonna Hulk out. She’s gonna Hulk out, we’re gonna have a Hulk baby. I don’t know how to raise a Hulk baby. Do they make diapers big enough for a Hulk baby?_

“I’m okay,” she says between gritted teeth, making her way over to him and grabbing his upper arm tightly. “I’m okay,” she gasps, squeezing his arm hard. “Just contractions. Hurry, Tony. We’ve gotta hurry. The hospital.”

“Don’t push, okay? You can’t push, Pepper. I’m not a doctor. I don’t even – don’t push.” He helps her down the stairs, half carrying her down the last few.

“I’m not trying to push, Tony, you idiot,” Pepper sounds livid, and she’s breathless from her contractions as Tony fumbles with the ceramic dish by the door for the car keys. “Oh god, Tony,” she groans, her face pressed against his shoulder. “We have to hurry.”

Tony bundles her into the car, sliding over the front hood so that he can throw himself into the driver’s seat in a split second. The sun is just starting to rise over the lake, and it would be a beautiful sight if Pepper wasn’t repeating his name with increasing intensity as he backs out of the driveway.

The fifteen minute drive to the hospital are some of the most harrowing minutes of Tony’s life, even though no one is on the road. Pepper threatens to vomit, and Tony rolls the window down, frantically trying to direct her head out the window and away from the expensive leather of the Audi’s interior.

The engine revs as they speed into the covered round-about of the emergency room entrance, the Audi hadn’t been pushed this hard in over a year. Tony helps Pepper out of the car, this time carrying her properly through the sliding glass doors that led to the emergency room.

“Hi, we’re here for --.”

“Dr. Morris, the OB-GYN,” the nurse at the front desk reads his mind, and Pepper is placed into a wheel chair and wheeled away from him as a clipboard chock full of paperwork is thrust into his hands.

“Tony!” Pepper shouts, and he hurries after her, grasping at her hand, filling out the paperwork with increasingly illegible handwriting. _Why do they need all this shit anyways? Why can’t I fill it out afterwards? Jesus Christ, Pep, you’re breaking my hand._

It’s over in less than an hour. Pepper is screaming, Tony blinks, and Morgan is screaming. Pepper’s hand slowly loosens its grip on his, his bones crying out in relief at the sudden loss of intense pressure. Tony half stands up, watching as the nurses bustle away with Morgan, off to take her vitals and dry her off. Tony just manages to see a shock of brown hair on the newborn’s head, and he turns to look at Pepper, kissing her softly.

“Oh, Pep, she’s got a lot of hair. She’s _gorgeous_ , wait til you see.” He brushes the tears off of Pepper’s flushed cheeks, brushes back the strands of hair that are stuck to her damp forehead. Pepper had been too far along for an epidural by the time they got into the delivery room, but she had borne the pain with such grace that Tony is still stunned, and terribly in love.

Morgan is still wailing as she’s brought over to Pepper, small fists flailing – and Tony is in love with every inch of her. Their daughter quiets the minute she’s placed against Pepper’s chest, and black spots dance across Tony’s vision. _Breathe, breathe, breathe. You’ve gotta breathe_. He sucks in a lungful of air, not minding the strong scent of sanitizer, not minding the harsh fluorescent lights above their heads.

“Hey, Morgan,” he whispers, reaching out to brush one finger over the soft, down-like hair on her tiny head. “Hey.” Tears burn in his eyes, and Tony reaches up with his free hand to rub them away vigorously. _I survived for this. This is why I’m here. Maybe not why Stephen Strange gave up the stone. But definitely why I’m still here._ His hand slips down, and before he can pull it away, Morgan grasps at his index finger with an incredibly strong grip.

“God, look at her little fingernails,” he breathes, shifting closer. Pepper laughs quietly, watching him as he interacts with his daughter for the first time, her eyes tired but warm with love for the both of them. He bites down on his bottom lip hard when Morgan’s little eyelids flutter open, and he finds himself staring into Maria Stark’s brown eyes. _Oh, hey Mamma. Hey. You’re here. You’re still here_. Tony doesn’t rub away the tears this time, they fall freely onto the white sheets. _You’ve got a granddaughter now. Told you I wouldn’t ever have kids, didn’t I? Guess I lied. Guess I lied, because look at her. Just **look** at her._

“She’s perfect,” Pepper murmurs, her hand brushing though Tony’s hair, thumb rubbing over his cheek and wiping away a few stray tears.

“She’s hungry,” Tony says aloud, watching as Morgan starts to breastfeed. He can’t stop looking at her, wanting to document every tiny detail. “Hey, she’s got freckles! Right on her cheeks. See, I told you she’d have some Potts features. Not as many freckles as you’ve got – but give it time, Pep. She’s a knock-out.”

“She’s perfect,” Pepper repeats, and Tony nods. Everything he had lost had been for this. _I’m not going to lose this. I promise you, Morgan. I’m gonna be there for everything. I’m gonna tell you all about everything, ‘cause you probably won’t remember this when you’re ten. But I’ll remember it. I’ll remember how loud you screamed when you were born til the day I die. How perfect you were. How perfect you are._

“Yeah.” Tony smiles, leaning back in his chair and looking at the two most important people in his life. His girls. “Yeah, she’s perfect.” He glances over his shoulder to the window behind them, the sky a brilliant blue. It’s August 1st. Morgan Stark’s birthday – and the leaves on the trees outside are a brilliant burst of orange, yellow, and red. It’s the Stark family’s first autumn together and it is perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh, morgan has arrived! the rest of the chapters shall be basically day-in-the-life and special occasions, though there is a connecting plot, have no fear. thank you for reading, commenting, and kudosing. i hope you've enjoyed so far!


	6. Chapter 6

Newborns cry a lot. That was the main takeaway of every book on parenting and child rearing that Tony had read in the past nine months. Since bringing Morgan home from the hospital, Tony had scanned each cry their daughter made and then had FRIDAY analyze them. While it was helpful having a database of each particular cry, Tony came to know them all well enough without having to ask FRIDAY what they were dealing with. He also became intimately familiar with the various colors and consistencies of newborn feces – and quite the expert at a ten second diaper change.

Morgan is three weeks and one day old. That is the first thought in Tony’s head when he blinks awake in the middle of the night to Morgan wailing away from her nursery. _1:37 AM. Well, baby, it’s better than last night._ Pepper stirs beside him, half sitting up, her hand on his chest as leverage to push herself out of bed.

“No, Pep,” Tony pulls her back down onto the bed, pressing a kiss blindly to what he hopes is her cheek. He grimaces, from the smell, there might be a tiny bit of spit-up in her hair. He’ll tell her in the morning. “She’s not hungry, I can tell. I’ll take care of it.” _It’s not hunger, diaper change, pain, or sleepiness. This one sounds different._

Tony looks out the window, prepared to see frost creeping across the glass but finding none. Autumn was in full swing, but at night, it got chilly. He pulls on a pair of sweatpants and staggers out of the bedroom, bumping into the doorframe with a muffled curse on the way out.

Rubbing at his sore shoulder, he looms over Morgan’s crib, squinting down at their daughter in the moonlight. _God, this kid has lungs._

“What is it, sweetheart? Cos'è, tesora?” Tony asks her soothingly, carefully lifting her up out of the crib and into his arms, cradling her against his chest. “What’s the problem? Nightmares? What could you possibly have nightmares about?” He rocks Morgan gently, narrowly missing a flailing arm as it soars past his face. “FRIDAY?”

“I’ve scanned the cry, boss. No match. This is new. I shall continue analysis.”

“Something new,” Tony tells Morgan, slowly walking with her out of her nursery, headed towards the living room. “Just like Daddy, huh? Being innovative?”

Tony presses his nose to the top of her head, her soft hair tickling against his skin, and he breathes in deeply. _God, new baby smell. It’s great. Way better than new car smell._ While he’s distracted and in close range, Morgan takes the opportunity to give him a solid punch to the nose, and Tony’s eyes water as he struggles to get Morgan’s fast and powerful little arms under his control. She quiets a little after her fist makes contact, unable to lash out with another punch now that Tony’s restrained her arms.

“Just like Mommy, too. Smacking Daddy when he’s a smartass. God, you’re strong. I think my nose is swelling. But that seems to have calmed you down, huh? Getting out some of that anger. Were you plotting an escape from your crib? I imagine it’s very boring, at night,” Tony chats with her like she can understand what he’s saying, because in his mind, she can. He grabs a blanket from the couch, headed for the sliding glass doors that led out to the back porch, with steps leading down to the lake.

“Not much to do,” Tony continues, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself and tucking Morgan in with it, not wanting her to get too cold. _Can’t get too cold in that cute little onesie, though. It’s got ladybugs on it. That’s nice._ “Except wonder why Mommy and Daddy aren’t floating above you with their strange, disembodied heads.”

He takes a seat at the bottom step, his bare feet digging into the cold pebbles that make up the shore of the lake. Starlight plays across its still surface, the water inches away from his toes – a peaceful shift, back and forth. Morgan’s eyes are wide as she looks up at him, and Tony grins down at her, softly brushing his thumb over her cheek.

“Maybe you were just bored. But I’ll talk to you, how about that? I usually have a lot on my mind at night, but ever since you showed up, I’ve hardly been getting any sleep at all. When I do get sleep, God, it’s deep. Thanks for that. No nightmares since you showed up.”

Tony sighs, leaning back against the step above him, his back cracking just slightly, enough to make him close his eyes in satisfaction. He tips his head back for a moment, looking up at the night sky.

“Daddy’s been up there, you know. Space. Been up there twice. There used to be a time, oh, ten years ago maybe, when all I wanted to do was go up there – and I had the means to do it, too. I could go anywhere in that suit, and I did. Deserted islands I found in the middle of the ocean, where no one had ever been before. But space, that’s a whole lot of something, and a lot of it is undiscovered. I had a bit of an explorer streak, I guess. Hope you don’t have that, Daddy wants you to stay right here, at home. But I went there. I flew a nuke up there.” He pauses, looking down at Morgan. She’s awake, watching him. S _he’s not gonna miss a trick, is she?_

“A nuke is a nuclear bomb. I figure you probably don’t know what that means, not to insult your intelligence. You’ve just got a lot of development going on up there, so I don’t blame you for not knowing. Crazy, right? To just throw a nuke at a problem, not minding the fact that it would have wiped out all of Manhattan. Crazier still, if you ask your mom, to grab the nuke and fly it up through a portal into space. But I did, I flew it up there. Saw lots of alien spaceships, watched them as they blew up. I should have felt great, in the moment. Because we won. But you know what? All I felt was sadness. Sadness so deep that I hadn’t felt it again, since… Since my second time in space. Because I didn’t get to say goodbye to your mom, or tell her that I loved her. And I did the same damn thing again the second time.” _Oops, language. Gotta put a quarter in the swear jar in the morning._

“The second time, though. It was worse.” Tony closes his eyes, watching Peter Parker fade into dust against the back of his eyelids. “It’s why you never got to meet Uncle Happy, or Peter – he’s not like your uncle, he’s too young for that. I guess, if he were still here, I’d want him to be your brother. He wasn’t my kid, but…” _He could have been. If we’d had more time. As good as my kid._ “He was a goofball. He would have loved you, I know it. He was great with kids, because he was a kid.” _He was just a **kid**_. “I’m sure he would’ve shown you all the classics, Star Wars, Alien, Jaws – you name it, that kid had seen it. Mommy calls me a nerd a lot, but in actuality, Peter Parker is the sole – was the sole bearer of that title. I wish you could’ve met him, hon.” Morgan is fast asleep now, as Tony stares down at her, watching her little chest rise and fall. “I shouldn’t have gone, that second time. He would still be here, maybe, if I hadn’t. But I don’t think you’d be here. That’s the fucked up thing about it.” _That’s at least a two dollar word, right? You know, I never thought to ask Pep what the swear jar is actually funding._ “I’m sad he’s gone. I’m guilty that I left him up there. What was left of him. I have nightmares about him dying. But a part of me is glad that it happened, because I couldn’t imagine my life without you now. I don’t know what I would do, if I was asked to pick between Peter Parker dying so I could have you, and saving Peter Parker but never having you.” He reaches up to brush away some tears, hating himself with such intensity that it makes him feel nauseous. “If there was a way to give myself up so that you both would live, I’d do it. I’d find a way to make that the third option. And I’d do it.”

Stiff from the cold, Tony gets to his feet, shivering slightly under the blanket. He’s careful not to jostle Morgan too much, happy to see that he’s been able to coax her back to sleep – hoping he never hears that cry again.

Back in the warmth of the house, Tony tiptoes back into Morgan’s nursery and sets her slowly down into the crib. He sinks down onto his knees in front of it, grasping at the bars and staring at her intensely. _You’re the best thing in my life. The reason I’m here. I’m going to take such good care of you. You don’t need to worry about anything. Sleep now, honey. Daddy’s here, you’re safe._

He jumps as a warm hand lands on his shoulder, and twists his head to look up at Pepper. Her eyes are half closed, her hair is a mess, and she’s gorgeous.

“Jesus, Tony, you’re freezing,” she murmurs, rubbing his shoulders briskly in an attempt to warm him up. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” his hand rests on top of hers, squeezing it softly. “She just wanted to chat. We sat by the lake. It was nice.”

Pepper takes his hand in hers and starts tugging him up to his feet. “Come back to bed.”

Taking one last look at Morgan’s peacefully sleeping form, he nods and pushes himself up to stand beside his wife. “You got it, boss.”

* * *

 

“Where’s your crazy Daddy gone?” Pepper asks Morgan, placing a little knit hat on the baby’s head as they walk out of the house. Morgan replies in an excited babble that makes Pepper smile – it’s Halloween, and Morgan is almost three months old. Their daughter had taken to testing out her vocal cords throughout the day, cooing and babbling away whenever they were in sight. Even when they weren’t, she kept at it, holding conversations with her stuffed elephant or with the King Arthur action figure sat on the changing table beside her crib. She had Pepper and Tony wrapped tightly around her little fingers, and unknowingly gives performances to an audience of two when she wakes her parents up with her noises in the middle of the night. Tony and Pepper sit together in the doorway to the nursery, wrapped up in a blanket, and just listen to their daughter until she falls back asleep, apparently pleased with however the conversation had concluded.

“Hmm, he’s not in the garden,” Pepper points to the small mound of dirt Tony had been steadily moving around in the past two weeks. There was no point in planting anything just yet, he told Pepper, but he could set in the wood frame and start placing the soil. Pepper didn’t mind the show, she’d sit outside with a cup of lemonade, Morgan squirming on her lap, watching Tony sweat under the sun with a shovel in his calloused hands.

Tony isn’t at the lake, either. Pepper had fallen a little more in love with him the day he had returned to the house with a handful of lake glass clutched in his palm. He had spent the morning at the shore, rooting around through the pebbles, until he had amassed a collection of worn green glass. _Like your eyes_ , he had told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek and a piece of glass into her palm. _That one took me hours to find_. Since then, when Tony needed a break or wanted time to think, she could usually find him at the shore, feet in the water and head bent down as he searched for any new pieces he could add to the growing piles of glass in the living room.

Pepper’s heart starts to sink. The car is there, she can see it parked in the driveway. The old, beaten up pick-up truck they’d bought last month is here, too – purchased for any farm-related business, he had told Pepper with a grin, handing her the keys and a bag that contained overalls. She had punched him in the arm for that, but put on the overalls and gone for a ride in the truck anyway. She shifts Morgan in her arms, her eyes focusing on the garage, seeing that the lights are on inside. In her mind, she can see him, muttering to himself and to FRIDAY, carefully arranging the components of a suit made to fit a three-month-old baby. Morgan had been a blessing for the both of them, Tony especially, but she fears that the minute her back is turned, he’s going to slip away from her and into that manic compulsion to build and build and build that terrified her.

She quietly pushes open the door to the garage – that was a nice change, to no longer need passcodes to get into his workshop – there were no secrets between them now. She exhales slightly as her eyes roam around the brightly lit ‘shop, there are no Iron Man suits to be found. Not even an Iron Baby suit. Instead, Tony is knelt in front of a wooden frame, hammer in one hand, nails held between his lips. There’s even classical music playing over the sound system, Tony apparently not in the mood for his usual rock that he played so loudly that it made the windows shake in whatever room he occupied. He glances up at the two of them when Morgan exclaims a loud stream of vowel-like sounds, grinning broadly and accidentally dropping the nails out of his mouth.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Tony climbs to his feet, letting go of the mini-house frame he seems to be building. He walks over to them, and Pepper can almost imagine a skip in his step. He’s happy.

He leans down and peppers kisses along Morgan’s cheeks, eliciting a few giggles from the baby that make him smile so brightly that Pepper can see the happiness reflected in his eyes. She had only seen his smile matched in his expression a few times before Morgan had been born, but now, Tony is practically radiating happiness.

He kisses Pepper slowly, his right hand cradling her face, his left hand held at his side. “Hi,” he murmurs against her lips, pulling away when Morgan starts to fuss where she’s stuck between the two of them.

“Shh, no fussing in Daddy’s ‘shop. This is a magical place, and no tears are allowed.” He takes Morgan from Pepper, plucking her knit hat off of her head and placing it on his own. Morgan stares up at him and smiles, and Tony laughs, shifting her in his arms.

“Hey, Pep, I need your first aid skills,” he tells her over his shoulder as he starts walking to the metal shelf on the far side of the garage where the first aid kit was housed. “I’ve got a splinter, and it hurts like a – like a splinter.” He catches himself, he feels as though he is approaching bankruptcy courtesy of the swear jar.

Pepper rolls her eyes, opening the first aid kit and finding the tweezers. “If you just wore the gloves I bought you before we even laid the foundation of this house, you wouldn’t be mangling your hands. One day I’m going to wake up next to you and you’re just going to be a piece of wood.”

He extends his hand towards her, his eyebrows raising. “Don’t know if you’ve not noticed this, Pep, but you wake up next to some wood every mor – ow!”

Pepper sets the tweezers aside, wiping over the tiny cut with an antibacterial wipe. “Don’t be such a baby, Tony. It was tiny. What are you building, anyways?”

Tony hops off the counter, grinning at her with that frenzied expression he usually reserved for the latest mark of his suit. “A chicken coop! A state of the art chicken coop, actually.” He and Morgan walk back over to the frame, Tony lithely hopping over the roll of chicken wire he’d left carelessly strewn across the floor in front of where he was working. Pepper doesn’t protest even as he jumps with their newborn in his arms, she trusts him not to drop her, and it’s cute to see him this excited.

He squats down in front of the frame, nudging Morgan’s hand aside as she reaches out to grab at the wood. “Hold on, darlin’, I’ve not sanded that down yet. If you got a splinter, I’d never forgive myself.” _If you got hurt at all, I’d never forgive myself._ “Anyways, a chicken coop! I’ve also started working on an egg tunnel.”

“An egg tunnel,” Pepper repeats with a knowing smile. Of course Tony wouldn’t go outside and collect the eggs by hand. He had to innovate.

“Yep, using some of my nano-tech, and repulsors to buffer the eggs through the tunnel so they don’t break on the way. It’ll go right from the coop to a bowl on our kitchen counter. Fresh eggs without having to do anything!” He kisses Morgan on the nose, reaching out and pocketing some of the nails he had left on the floor. The garage wasn’t exactly baby proof, but they had a while to go before they needed to worry about Morgan finding her way in here unattended. “Another project for the spring – this, and the garden. I was also thinking we could get some alpacas. I don’t know what we’d do with them, but I just want them. I could make a little saddle and Morgan could ride them around the place. Beats driving. I think. Plus, they could protect the chickens. Though, I guess that’s why I’m building the coop…” Tony rubs at his chin, looking up at Pepper hopefully. “What do you think?”

“I love it,” Pepper replies, watching that bright smile as it forms on Tony’s face again. “A garden, chickens, and alpacas. You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to use this land as much as you could.”

“I wasn’t,” Tony admits. _Life. I’m trying to surround us with life – so much life that Morgan never stops to wonder why the rest of the world seems so empty._ “What are you two ladies up to, anyways? I assume we had a successful naptime and a delightful…” he checks his watch and grins, “Early evening meal.”

Pepper helps him to his feet, taking Morgan while he starts packing away his tools for the night. That was another nice change, Tony naturally came back to the house before the sun started to set, his desire to be at home with his family besting his desire to create.

“We came to find you so that we could get ready for Halloween, didn’t we?” Pepper asks Morgan, stealing the hat from where it dangles at a jaunty angle on Tony’s head, placing it back on Morgan’s.

“Pepper,” he says to her quietly, taking her hand as they walk out of the garage and back towards the house, the sun shining brilliantly as it sets over the lake. “I don’t know if you know this, but she’s three months old… So I don’t think she’ll be up for trick or treating.” _The whole world isn’t trick or treating. I checked online._ “Unless you were thinking about going down to the village? I think they were having a Halloween party for kids starting at 6.”

Pepper shakes her head, opening the front door and ushering him inside. “No, I thought we’d stay in and put a movie on. I do want to put her in her costume though.”

“Her costume?” Tony raises an eyebrow. He goes with her almost every time she goes shopping. _How in the hell did she buy a costume for our kid without me noticing?_

“Nat sent it,” Pepper tells him, climbing the stairs to Morgan’s nursery. “Isn’t that right, honey? Auntie Nat sent you a Halloween costume. You’re going to be the cutest pumpkin your Daddy’s ever seen.”

Tony can’t argue with that, and he lets Pepper disappear up the stairs without further argument, wanting to be surprised by Morgan in her costume. He wanders into the kitchen, opening the fridge to get himself a can of sparkling water. _Not exactly whiskey, but it’ll do_. Another silent agreement between him and Pepper – and God, it had been the hardest one. Quitting alcohol cold turkey had led to two weeks of miserable withdrawal, Pepper holding him while he shook violently and threw up nothing but bile into the toilet, over and over again. _I’ll never make a snide comment about your morning sickness again_ , he’d told her, his voice thick and eyes miserable. He’d done the same for her when her morning sickness had actually begun, and while sometimes he dreams of drinking himself into a stupor and wakes up with the ghost of scotch on his lips, he’s not had a drop to drink in almost a year. Sparkling water almost burns when it’s going down his throat, and it almost – _**almost**_ – satiates that part of his brain that begs him to just stick his head in at the liquor store when they go grocery shopping.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Tony says to himself when he opens the cabinet and finds a massive bag of M&Ms. _If she snuck these past me, she definitely could sneak a costume past me. I am not as observant as I think I am._ He rips the bag open and dumps them into a mixing bowl, grabbing a handful and tossing them into his mouth. It’ll ruin his dinner, but it’s Halloween – _isn’t Halloween dinner traditionally just a shit ton of candy? A Stark family tradition._

Tony moves into the living room with his can of sparkling water and massive bowl of M&Ms, taking a seat on the couch and flipping on the television. He flicks through the channels for a few minutes, finally finding a channel that is showing Halloween movies. _Not as good as Christmas movies, but… I hope this doesn’t scare the shit out of Morgan. Nightmare Before Christmas is claymation, right? That’s not scary…_ He glances over at the staircase, hearing Pepper and Morgan as they descend. Tony grins when he catches sight of their daughter, a bright orange blob in Pepper’s arms.

“Wow, that’s quite a haul from the pumpkin patch, huh, Pep? See, I knew you had a green thumb. This is why I’m placing you in charge of cultivating our garden…”

Tony lifts Morgan into his arms, admiring her new costume – it almost seems homemade. _Natasha Romanoff, sewing a Halloween costume? I really fucking doubt it… But maybe?_ His eyes focus on the little beret, complete with a green stem.

“Hooooooly shit, this is adorable,” Tony straightens the little beret, Morgan smiling happily up at him, her hands reaching up to grab at his hair.

“Tsk,” Pepper glances at the swear jar on the kitchen counter, almost stuffed to the brim with dollar bills and quarters. “I see you’ve found the candy.”

Tony sets Morgan down on her play mat, sitting beside her and gathering all of her stuffed animals, surrounding their daughter with them while she enjoys some tummy time.

“I did, if you’d bought Kit Kats, I’d already be vomiting – because I would have inhaled them, wrapper and all. I’m exhibiting restraint… by putting them in a bowl, I can look and see how many I’ve eaten.”

Tony reaches up for a handful, selecting a blue one and holding it up to his eye, blocking out Pepper’s head with it. “Hey, Pep. Open your mouth.”

Pepper shoots him a withering look, and Tony’s mouth drops open in mock outrage.

“I’m not gonna unzip my pants right here, right now, in front of our kid. Who do you think I am? Just open your mouth.”

Pepper does as she’s told, though she has a pillow firmly grasped in her hands, ready to smack Tony’s head with it should he be up to anything. She blinks in surprise as the blue M&M lands in her mouth, chewing and shaking her head with a wary smile.

“You’re lucky I didn’t choke on that, Tony. Considering the fact that I’m the one who breastfeeds our baby and makes sure she doesn’t starve, me choking to death on an M&M on Halloween was not one of your brightest ideas… You, however…”

Tony nearly inhales the M&M chucked into his mouth with ferocity, Pepper’s aim is impeccable. They spend the rest of the evening just like that; Tony sprawled beside Morgan on her activity mat, playing with her idly while also watching the movie. Every so often, Pepper tosses a candy into his mouth, and it rarely misses the mark. There are no tricks or horrors this Halloween – not even nightmares -- just the treat of spending time with his family, and not worrying about a thing.

* * *

 

They get their first snowfall a few days after Thanksgiving, not even an inch, but it sends both Tony and Pepper into winter-prepping overdrive. They consider buying a snowplow, but Tony decides to wait and see how he does with his old-fashioned shovel. _Plus, I could just melt it down with the suit, if it’s too much. There’s an idea. Channel all that water back to the lake before it ices over…_ Once on that train of thought, Tony starts working on a water filtration system, not wanting to resupply the lake with polluted snow-water.

He wakes late one morning to a sticky note pressed against the skin of his chest, sleepily pulling it off and holding it close to his face so that he can make out the letters. _I probably should think about getting glasses. God, I’m getting old._

‘T, gone to the grocery store with M. Please clear out the boxes in the office. P.’ Tony grins, looking under Pepper’s neat script and seeing the little hearts she had drawn. _Tony, do this manual labor… but hey, I love ya._ She’s right, though. Those three boxes tucked away in the corner of the office had been collecting dust ever since they moved into the lake house. Tony’s not even sure what’s in them, which was why he was hesitant to unpack them, afraid that some ghost would float out the box and haunt him should he dare look inside.

“I’m being ridiculous,” he tells the ceiling, stretching out on the bed languidly before forcing himself onto his feet. “Were we out of food, or something, FRIDAY?”

“Not completely, boss. Though it appears you are out of bread. Ms. Potts was going to make breakfast, I believe, and then saw the shopping list stuck to the fridge.”

“Of course,” Tony mutters, pulling on a pair of jeans, glancing out the window at the already melting snow. “I would’ve gone with them,” he complains to the long sleeved shirt he pulls out of the bottom drawer, frowning as he finds a hole in the bottom hem. He tugs it over his head, stumbling off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and freshen up before conquering the three intimidating cardboard boxes downstairs. “But then,” he says around his toothbrush, chatting with his reflection, “I wouldn’t have unpacked the boxes. And then it’ll be Christmas, so I won’t have time to do it then. And then it’ll be really snowing, and we’ll be cuddling in bed together for warmth. Fireplace going, of course. But there wouldn’t be any time to unpack the boxes until spring. By which time, we should have our chickens, and the garden up and running…” Tony raises an eyebrow, rinsing his mouth out and setting his toothbrush aside. “She really is devious, you know… You married a devious woman.”

The three boxes are smaller than Tony remembers, in his mind they had towered over him and scraped against the ceiling. In reality, they are about two by three, and he doesn’t even need the large kitchen knife he’d brought with him to break open the duct tape on top.

The first box is from his parents’ storage unit, he can tell because his mother’s handwriting is on the side – _miscellaneous_. “Miscellaneous, huh, Mamma?” Tony gently lifts the top flaps of the box, looking down inside, holding his breath without realizing it. “Jesus, you’ve got to be kidding me. Why the hell would you keep this stuff?” He pulls out handful after handful of cards that his mother had received, congratulating her on the birth of her son. He sneezes as he sets the stack aside, a wisp of dust floating into the air, thankfully not taking on the appearance of a mushroom cloud. _Knowing Dad, there’s definitely some radioactive element stuck in the bottom of the box that he completely forgot about._ Tony carelessly crumples up drawings that he had made for his mother and for Jarvis, though it is sweet that Maria had kept them. At the bottom of the box, he doesn’t find a nuclear bomb at all – just some old baby clothes.

“Ugh,” Tony says, holding his baptism outfit up to the light – all white lace and terrible. “I can’t believe she made me wear this. Absolutely revolting.” He places it next to him before crushing the box and adding it to his growing trash pile. _I’ll show Pepper though. God, she’ll laugh. I’ll have to find some pictures of me in it._

The second box is unremarkable, stuff that Tony would expect to find in a junk drawer. There’s even a Barbie doll, inexplicably. “Hey, wait a minute,” he tells the doll, squinting at it, deep in thought. “Oh, that’s right – you were Guinevere. Sorry about the box, probably isn’t as swanky as Camelot. You’re vintage, though. Tell you what, I’ll give you to my daughter. You can have a nice reunion with Arthur – oh, yeah, he’s still around…” Tony frowns, setting the doll down on top of his very small ‘keep’ pile. “Listen to me. Jesus Christ. I’m talking to a doll. I hope you’re not recording this, FRIDAY.”

“Of course not, boss,” the AI answers too quickly. _She is recording this. Damn it, that’s exactly the sort of thing I would have done if it were me._ He can’t help but be pleased as he reaches for the third and final box, FRIDAY isn’t the same as J.A.R.V.I.S. – but she’s getting there.

His smile disappears instantly when he looks inside the box. On top is a framed photo, and Tony shoves the box forcibly away from him, the contents spilling out over the floor. Gorge rises in his throat and he gags, covering his face with his hands, his fingers digging into his scalp. _Breathe, Stark. Stop. It was just a picture. Just a picture._ The kid fading into dust below him, Tony’s hand passing through the air. The hand that had been on Peter’s chest, grounding him, holding him there. _I’m sorry._ Tony nearly vomits then, cold sweat soaking into the fabric of his shirt, and his blunt fingernails dig harder into his skin. _Stop. **Stop**._ He slowly draws his hands away from his face; reaching out for the picture frame where it rests by his foot, mercifully face-down. He holds it in front of him, staring down at the back of the frame, taking a very deep breath before flipping it over.

Peter Parker stands beside him, holding an award of recognition for his work with his “Stark Internship”. Eventually, it had become an actual internship, beyond Peter slinging his way across New York City with webbing so complex that Tony was still trying to figure out its formula. _The kid was light years ahead of me. God, he was smart_. So smart that he was welcomed with open arms at Stark Industries’ R&D department, eagerly bouncing his way between desks, blurting out brilliant ideas in a stream of consciousness so fast that even Tony had issues following after his train of thought. The plaque he had earned is held upside down between them, and that could almost make Tony laugh, that, or the way Peter has stuck his pointer and middle fingers up in bunny ears too high above Tony’s head. He doesn’t laugh, though, tears burn their way down his cheeks as he clutches the frame to his chest. _I killed him. I killed Peter Parker. If I hadn’t brought him to Germany, there would have been no reason for him to be on Titan. He would’ve been the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man that he always wanted to be. I got him involved in this terrible shit. It’s my fault._

A sob wrenches its way out of him, the force of it almost painful, the wound that had slowly been healing in his soul from the loss of Peter Parker is raw and open again. Tony sobs into his hands, his shoulders shaking, unable to get more than a frantic gasp of air into his lungs.

“Tony?” He doesn’t hear Pepper as she comes in, her eyes wide as she takes in the state of him. Morgan is in her arms, looking at Tony in confusion – it is usually the other way around, Morgan crying and Tony comforting her. “What is it, honey?” Pepper asks him softly, kneeling in front of him. Her knee bumps into a picture frame, and she flips it over and exhales slowly. “Oh, Tony,” she murmurs, her free hand brushing over his shoulder gently. “It’s okay, Tony. Just breathe.”

“I don’t – deserve this --,” Tony’s voice is hoarse, his eyes bloodshot and filled with self-loathing when he looks up at Pepper. “I killed him – I killed him, and now I think – how can I let myself – have this when I…?"

Morgan reaches out for her father, her small hand brushing over his damp cheek, wiping away his tears. She babbles at him softly, in an almost comforting tone – the one her parents would use with her. _God, she’s a smart kid._

“It’s not a matter of deserving anything, Tony,” Pepper carefully hands Morgan to him, watching as he cradles their daughter against his chest, each breath coming a little easier for him. “You have us. And we have you. We’re not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm anticipating a total of 15 or 16 chapters for this fic... thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

They get three and a half feet of snow the week before Christmas. Tony wakes on Monday morning, squinting against the blinding white light that seems to be radiating into their bedroom through the windows. _Someone forgot to pull the curtains across last night_ , he chides himself, sitting up slowly and rubbing at his sleepy eyes. _Has someone put a floodlight on outside? Jesus Christ._

“Jesus Christ,” he says aloud, finally registering what he’s seeing out the window. _Snow. It snowed. God, that’s a lot of snow._ “Pepper,” he shakes her shoulder, his wife an immovable lump under the duvet. “Pepper, wake up.”

“Tony,” she grumbles sleepily, shifting under the covers and scooting away from his insistent shaking. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Yeah, okay, sure, but there’s a fucking blizzard going on outside – wait, that’s a lie. I don’t think it’s snowing still.” He bounds out of bed, much like he had throughout his childhood on Christmas morning. Pepper thought she had grown used to Tony during the holidays, how he would sink himself into the festivities to an almost extreme level in an attempt to ward off any thoughts about his parents and the anniversary of their passing. As she sits up in bed and watches him as he hurries towards the window to look at the snow, she decides that no, she’s never used to this manic delight in Christmastime and winter that Tony exhibits.

“I better go get the shovel.” He is already in their walk-in closet, searching for the proper outerwear, throwing items that look promising onto the floor of their bedroom.

Pepper watches this all in mild confusion, running her fingers through her tangled hair. She’d been having such a good dream, too – she and Tony in Greece, Morgan playing on the sand in front of them…

“Tony, honey, we’re not going anywhere today. You don’t need to shovel out the driveway. Come back to bed.” That usually works, Tony rarely ever turns down an invitation to a bed containing a naked Pepper Potts.

“We are going somewhere!” He emerges, his bulky winter jacket still open, revealing his bare chest. Pepper laughs, in his haste to get ready, he hadn’t even thrown on a t-shirt. She climbs out of bed, picking up a thermal shirt and shifting the jacket off of his shoulders, pulling the shirt over his head.

“And where is it that you think we’re going?”

Tony blinks, looking a bit like a turtle with his head stuck out of his shell before Pepper successfully has the shirt on him. “Uh, I have an appointment to get our Christmas tree at noon.”

“An appointment? Why aren’t you just grabbing one at the grocery store…?”

Tony looks horrified at the suggestion, tugging on down-stuffed pants that make him look like a marshmallow. It is adorable, Pepper decides, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him as he gets himself dressed for a task that anyone else would be miserable to do.

“Those things are tiny! No, I’m going to a tree farm – Page’s, you know? About 30 minutes from here. And I’m gonna pick one out and cut it down myself… Well, with some help. I’d bring you and Morgie, but I think it’s best if I just come home and surprise you. That way we don’t lose her in a snowdrift, or something.”

Last but not least, Tony tugs on his winter boots – he’d broken them in over the past few months, walking around the house in them while playing with Morgan or tinkering with his egg tunnel idea. One evening, Pepper had walked into their bedroom after dinner to find Tony completely naked but for the boots. She’ll never forget the insulted look on his face as she had laughed herself to tears.

“You may not see me again,” he tells her solemnly, leaning in to kiss her goodbye. “I may be taken by the snow… I may become one with the snow… I may become… Snow Man.”

Pepper shakes her head, shoving him playfully away from her. “Go brush your teeth, honey – no excuse for skipping that step, even if you do become a snow man. I’ll make some coffee and breakfast so that it’s waiting for you when you come in, how about that?”

“Not _a_ snow man,” she can still hear Tony complaining as she climbs down the stairs to get started in the kitchen, Morgan still mercifully asleep. “ _The_ Snow Man.”

His enthusiasm for shoveling snow lasts all of about half an hour, panting for air as he flings another shovelful of snow to the side of the driveway. Thankfully, his hands are protected by gloves, so he doesn’t get blisters – but at the bottom of the driveway, just as the end is in sight, he slips and goes flying into the snow drift. Cursing, spluttering, and struggling, Tony almost gives up on his attempt to get out of the snow. _I must become Snow Man now. I am duty bound. Jesus Christ, this is cold._ A gloved hand grabs the hood of his coat where it had fallen back against his shoulders, his modestly greying hair now white with a fine dusting of snow. Pepper helps him to his feet, managing not to drop the thermos of steaming coffee she holds in her other hand.

“Thank you,” Tony says sincerely, taking a long gulp of the coffee, shivering as its warmth spreads down his throat and into his empty stomach. Pepper kisses his chilled lips, brushing the snow out of his hair.

“I think, Mr. Stark, that we should have bought that snow plow. You wiped out.”

She’s teasing him, but he also detects a hint of worry. _I guess I could have slipped and whacked my head on the driveway and spilled my brains everywhere. But I didn’t._ “No worries, Pep. I’m all good. The snow was soft, fucking freezing, though.”

She kisses him again, a little more insistent than before. “Come inside and I’ll warm you up.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Tony replies, grinning. “I’ll be in right after you, hon. I’m just gonna throw some salt down. What about breakfast?”

Pepper looks at him over her shoulder as she walks back up to the house, her smile suggestive. “Breakfast can wait.”

* * *

 

“Oats,” Tony murmurs dazedly against Pepper’s neck, more than sufficiently warmed up, her arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Oats?” Pepper repeats, her hands brushing slowly up and down the warm skin of his back. “Tony, if you’re about to make some weird joke about sowing your seed, or something, I’ll get a divorce.”

Tony lifts his head away from her neck, his brown eyes wide with mock-hurt. “You wouldn’t.” He grins wickedly. “Though, now that you’ve given the idea, I’m bereft that I missed the opportunity. Oats, though.” He shifts off of her, landing on his back with a huff of air. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him, and Pepper obliges by resting her head on his chest, his heart still racing against her ear. “I need to buy oats while I’m out… So we can sprinkle ‘em around the yard on Christmas Eve. For the reindeers, you know. We have carrots, too. I’m not their biggest fan, so I’ll employ you to take a big bite out of them and then we can leave them in a very conspicuous location… The hoof prints, well, I was considering buying a horseshoe or something but I think I’m just gonna free hand it.”

“Tony,” Pepper sounds exasperated, “Morgan isn’t even 5 months old. She is not going to understand the scene you are trying to set.”

“Uh, Pep? Do you think Santa says ‘fuck you’ and doesn’t bother coming if you aren’t old enough to appreciate the lengths he goes to to climb down your chimney, or whatever?” Tony shakes his head, “I’m gonna do it, we’ll bake cookies, I’ll take a bite out of one and drink half a glass of milk. So what if she doesn’t understand? It’ll be a tradition. I will go to great lengths to keep the magic of Christmas alive. Will I go as far as to dress up in a Santa costume in two years to delight Morgan? Time will tell.”

She shakes her head slowly, smiling bemusedly. She loves him. “Alright, oats. You must be really glad that you shoveled the driveway, now you can get a Christmas tree and oats…”

“Where is Morgan, by the way?” Tony sits up, looking over to the side of the bed as if he expects their daughter to be hanging out down there. She’s not.

“I put her down for a nap after she and I had breakfast…” Pepper sounds a tiny bit guilty, and Tony looks over at her with a grin.

“You put her down for a nap so that you could have your wicked way with me without having to worry,” he nudges her playfully. “I did not know you would go to such lengths just to get me into bed.” Tony picks up his underwear from the floor, wriggling into his briefs before pulling on his trousers. His stomach growls as he gets dressed, audibly enough that Pepper hears it and laughs.

“Breakfast is in the microwave, I tried to keep it warm… But we got a bit carried away up here. Go on and eat, Tony. I’ll bring Morgan down to see you.”

Tony leans over the bed, kisses Pepper quickly, and makes his way out of their bedroom. “You complete me,” he calls cheekily over his shoulder before sliding down the bannister – a much faster way of tackling the staircase.

He has a forkful of eggs shoved into his mouth when Morgan is placed on his lap, and he grins and shifts her in his arms while he eats.

“Good morning, Morgan le Fay. How is life treating you today? Did you see the snow outside?”

Morgan claps her hands and giggles in response to her father’s animated interrogation of her wellbeing.

“Yes, I saw it too,” Tony takes a bite out of his toast, offering it to her before pulling it away. “Off of gluten these days? Probably for the best, Ms. Stark. You make very educated decisions… Yeah, the snow. I shoveled it, actually. So when you go driving out in your Mustang to your very important meeting, you can thank me that you can even get out of the driveway.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, and then stands her up by his leg, her hands grasping at his while he helps to hold her upright. “You’re getting very good at this, you know that? I think you’ll be standing up on your own before the end of January. Then you’re gonna be so much trouble for me and your mom. How are we gonna keep up with you?”

Pepper’s hands replace his as Tony gets up to wash his dish, checking his watch as he does. He sets his coffee mug in the rack to dry, his eyes wandering over to the picture of him and Peter on the countertop. A brief wave of nausea washes over him, and then it’s gone. He didn’t want to try to forget about the kid, he didn’t want to try and bury him so deep in his memory that he only remembered his death. So, Peter’s picture lived near the drying dishes – as did a picture of Maria Stark sat at her piano. Both images made Tony terribly sad, but there’s something else growing alongside that emotion, a sort of acceptance – perhaps even a faint happiness. He loved ( _loves_ ) them both, why shouldn’t he remember them, honor them? It’s not the most glamorous of places, but it’s a place where Tony often is near, near enough to look over at the pictures and remember…

“Alright, I gotta go, Pep.” He grabs the keys to the old pick-up truck out of the dish by the door, grabbing his wallet where it sits beside the dish. “I’m gonna go pick out the best tree. Text me the word ‘oats’ so that I don’t drive all the way back here and have a fit when I remember I was supposed to get them just as I pull into the driveway.”

“I will,” Pepper promises, waving Morgan’s hand slowly. “Say bye-bye to Daddy.”

What follows is an incomprehensible babble that sounds mostly like ‘bah-bah-bah’, but Tony decides that he’ll accept it, waving back to his wife and daughter before hurrying out into the cold.

* * *

 

The tree Tony picks out for their first Christmas as a family is entirely too large, Pepper looking on in horror as Tony forces the top of it to bend against the ceiling, leaving a brown scrape against the paint. Tony balances precariously on the top step of the ladder, bracing himself with one hand against the ceiling to keep from falling off, though his legs are trembling. He saws at the top of the tree, Pepper groaning quietly as an endless rain of pine needles showers to the floor, Morgan watching with interest from where she’s sat on the couch.

Tony climbs down from the ladder, triumphantly clutching the top two feet of their Christmas tree in his hand, sap-covered saw in the other. “There, I told you it would fit.”

Pepper opens her mouth to argue and then decides it’s not worth it, taking the saw and the tiny tree from Tony’s hands. “You better clean that up,” is what she settles on, gesturing to the mountain of pine needles and adding her own at their feet when the tiny tree moves with her gesturing. “Shit.”

“Ooh, Pep, that’s fifty cents,” Tony chuckles and manages to duck away from the tiny tree swung at his arms, Pepper muttering to herself as she walks away to dispose of the tree and the saw.

“Entertaining, right?” Tony asks Morgan, grabbing the broom where it rests against the side of the wall, beginning the arduous task of sweeping the floor clean. “But that’s a Christmas tree. Between you and me, it is probably a little bit bigger than we need, but… I wanted to impress your mom with my lumberjack skills. Oh, what’s in the bags?” Morgan hadn’t asked, though she’s sat beside them on the couch. “I bought a bunch of lights. We have a ton of ornaments, but no lights. That simply would not do. You and Mommy are going to sit there and watch me as I struggle to string lights around the tree. Mommy used to help me do it, you know. Even back when we were just friends. Well, I don’t know if she would call us friends, the first few years. But I would bite her head off if she did something wrong, so it became a Christmastime tradition for her to sit on the couch and just watch me put the lights up.”

Tony sits down on the couch beside Morgan, putting his feet up on the coffee table and looking up at the tree. He remembers those years vividly, despite the amount he drank – he always remembered them. It was always December 16th. Tony would go out and get a Christmas tree, raiding the nearest liquor store on his way home. He would drink himself into a stupor as he set the tree up, decorating it with lights and ornaments. After the first year, Pepper would come without needing a phone call. She would carefully tweeze shards of glass out of Tony’s bloody, shredded hand. She would quietly suggest going to the emergency room, Tony would always rage at her in return that it was unnecessary. She would wipe his forehead with a damp face cloth when he threw up, and she would spend the night on the couch in the living room, too afraid that he would choke on his own vomit in his sleep if she were to go home.

“Just keeping your seat warm, Pep,” Tony says cheerfully as his wife returns, getting up from the couch so that she can take his place. “I got both white and multi-colored lights. I’m gonna start with the white, I think.”

“Did you get the ornaments from the attic?” Pepper asks him, bouncing Morgan gently on her lap while they watch him tear into the boxes.

“Yep,” Tony grins, unraveling the first string of lights. “They are all waiting for me in the office. My mom would be pleased with the amount of antique ornaments I managed not to break ever since I inherited them. Though a great many were lost to my feet, it’s true…”

They pause for dinner, and then to put Morgan down – Tony and Pepper make sure to read a story to her every night, and that doesn’t stop even if Tony is practically vibrating with the desire to finish decorating the tree before bed. It’s nearly midnight when he hangs the last ornament, Bing Crosby crooning softly in the background. His hands are on his hips as he circles the tree, searching for any empty spots that need to be filled. Tony finds none.

“It’s perfect,” Pepper says from behind him, smiling as Tony turns to face her.

“Ah, well, Pep… You did marry a savant.” Tony’s hands rest on her hips, he tilts his head to the side, his expression playful. “Dance with me?”

She does, her hands resting on his shoulders as they sway around the living room, thankful that Tony had taken the time to break down the Christmas light boxes and had put away Morgan’s toys. Her head rests against his chest, and he feels the soft exhalation of her breath against his shirt.

“Are you okay, Tony?” She asks him softly, their steps never faltering even as the question makes Tony sigh.

“I’m good, Pep. I really am. I know you’re used to me crashing and burning at Christmas… but I promise, this isn’t because of… that. I’m happy. I’m here with you and Morgan. I just want her to have a good first Christmas, you know?”

She lifts her head, green eyes finding brown, searching his gaze for any hint of a lie. She finds none. Pepper’s head rests against his shoulder, her arms wrapping around him in a hug while they dance. The music eventually fades away, until it is just the two of them, swaying to their own rhythm as they always have.

* * *

 

True to his word, Tony does not crash and burn as Christmas inches closer and closer towards them. On Christmas Eve, their schedule is jam-packed. After breakfast, Morgan watches from her high chair as her parents make a huge batch of chocolate chip cookies, Tony referring to a recipe card that is browning from age but tried and true by Maria Stark. Once the cookies are made, Tony is a whirling dervish of tinsel, which he strings around the house from every possible surface. Morgan and Pepper are entertained by this, and by the classic Christmas movies Tony has put on as background noise.

Before they put Morgan to bed, they take her outside so she can watch as Tony sprinkles oats and carrots around the yard, their feet crunching in the fresh snow that had fallen the night before. _God, this is gonna be a perfect first Christmas for Morgan_. Their daughter looks on with interest, clinging her elephant stuffed animal to her chest and laughing when Tony covers her face in kisses.

“She’s so sweet, it doesn’t even bother me that she has no idea the effort I’m putting in to keep the mystery and magic of Santa Claus alive,” Tony tells Pepper as they descend quietly from Morgan’s nursery. “You realize that we have a huge task ahead of us, right?”

Pepper nods, grabbing a pair of scissors from the kitchen before joining Tony in the living room, where a huge pile of unwrapped presents sits scattered around the floor and on the coffee table.

“We might have gone a bit overboard,” Tony admits, picking up a box that contains a stuffed dinosaur. “It walks, though – all by itself. And roars, too, if you press its foot.”

Pepper tosses him a roll of shimmering silver paper, splitting the presents into two equal piles. “It will probably terrify her,” Pepper had told him as much when Tony had come bounding over to her with the box at the toy store two weeks ago. “But, if it doesn’t, we might have a budding paleontologist on our hands.”

They spend the rest of the night side by side, chatting and laughing as the hour grows later and later. Eventually, Pepper and Tony both drift to sleep on the couch together, their mugs of hot chocolate forgotten while in the background George Baily shouts ‘Merry Christmas’ to anyone in Bedford Falls who will listen.

* * *

 

Tony groans awake on Christmas morning, every muscle aching from his cramped sleeping position on the couch. Toes curl against his back, and Tony lifts his head dazedly to find that Pepper is gently kicking him in her sleep, her hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt. Morgan croons away on the baby monitor, eager to be taken out of her crib and given breakfast, completely unaware of the significance of the day. Tony slowly untangles himself from Pepper’s grasp, leaving her to sleep for a few more minutes, deciding to be charitable and take care of the baby. He stretches, reaching up above his head, frowning when he feels the ache in his chest that he can’t attribute to a short, cramped, uncomfortable sleep on the living room couch. He makes a pit stop in the kitchen on his way to the nursery, grabbing the pill tray that he can’t leave home without. He’d been diagnosed with atrial fibrillation after returning from space the second time, his weak heart finally deciding to throw something diagnosable at him aside from the occasional palpitation and stab of pain. Since that diagnosis, he had been prescribed a long list of medications that he takes without complaint. There had been a time, that terrible time when he and Pepper had been separated, when he would have ignored the diagnosis and gone right on with his business until his heart gave out on him. But now…

Now, he gazes down at Morgan in her crib, smiling as their daughter reaches up for him.

“Mommy put you in a lovely outfit, huh, sweetpea?” Tony picks her up, holding her in front of him so he can admire the little embroidered strings of Christmas lights sewn into the green fabric of her onesie. “It’s a shame they don’t light up. Tell you what, when you turn like… mm… how about five? I’ll make you some pajamas with real Christmas lights in ‘em. I’ll make some for all of us, and your mother will call it tacky, but she’ll wear them anyways.”

He carries Morgan downstairs to the living room, by which time Pepper is sat up, at least slightly awake.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs as he kisses her good morning, handing her the baby with a grin. “I got you this.”

“Wow,” Pepper yawns, watching him as he heads for the front door. “Very thoughtful of you. Where are you going?”

Tony pulls on his jacket and a pair of slippers, furrowing his brows at her. “To go make the hoof prints. Duh, Potts. You think I threw those oats out there for my health?”

Pepper laughs, getting to her feet as Tony shuts the door behind him. She gives him a good two minutes before carrying Morgan over to one of the windows that looks over the front yard. Tony is just about wrapping up, wiping his snow covered hand on his jacket, the skin of his palm bright red from being plunged into the snow to make hoof prints.

“Santa came last night, baby,” Pepper tells Morgan, pointing out the window at the prints Tony had made, her husband jumping up and down and waving his arms wildly outside. Morgan starts to laugh at her father’s antics, her hand touching the glass, reaching out for him. Tony runs back inside the house, laughing as Morgan is handed to him, spinning her around in his arms.

“Look at all those presents, baby!” He hurries over to their massive Christmas tree, plucking a big blue bow off of one of the presents and placing it on top of Morgan’s little brown curls. “A lot of them are for you,” he admits, sitting her down in front of the piles of presents that tower over her. “When I was a boy, I’d wake my parents up at the crack of dawn, and we’d open stockings and then – then they would make me wait until everyone got here before we opened presents. My grandparents, who lived an hour away, would take their sweet time getting here, too.”

“That sounds like torture,” Pepper calls from the kitchen, where she is making their coffee.

“That’s not the worst of it,” Tony continues, watching as Morgan turns a small wrapped present over in her hands. “Sure, we’d have to wait until my entire f – effing family got there, and then my parents would make us wait until everyone had breakfast. By the time we got to the presents, I’d be able to open like two, and then it would be time for lunch. It _was_ torture.”

Tony sips his coffee, giving Pepper a grateful smile as she gathers their stockings where they are hung over the fireplace. Tony had spent hours sewing their names into the top of them, and Pepper had to stop him from getting carried away and using the bedazzler.

While Pepper feeds her, Morgan is occupied by the textured ball that had been placed in the top of her stocking. Tony enjoys the patterned socks and new razor in his stocking. Pepper can hardly stop smiling as she admires her new necklace – glinting with her emerald birthstone (Tony’s birthstone is emerald, too, but he felt like having two of them would be a bit much) and peridot for Morgan’s birthday in August.

Morgan soon becomes the queen of wrapping paper; a mountain of presents forming around her as Pepper helps her unwrap each one, Tony snapping a never-ending stream of pictures of the two of them. His phone rings in the pocket of the new woolen navy blue cardigan Pepper had given him for Christmas, and he fishes it out, grinning when he sees Rhodey’s contact photo on the screen.

“Rhodey! Merry Christmas,” Tony grins and ducks as Morgan tests out her throwing arm, lobbing the ball from her stocking at him. Tony goes to toss it back to her, but notices Pepper shaking her head quickly out of the corner of his eye, and throws it to his wife instead. _Probably the safer option. Merry Christmas Morgan, I gave you a concussion because you caught the ball with your face._

“Has she opened my gift yet?” Rhodey sounds excited on the other end of the phone, and Tony imagines a small army of War Machine action figures wrapped up and hiding somewhere under their tree.

“Have you opened Uncle Rhodey’s gift yet?” Tony asks Morgan as he puts Rhodey on speaker phone, setting his phone on the coffee table so that he has use of both hands as he digs through the still sizeable amount of presents under the tree. Morgan babbles to Rhodey in the background, and Rhodey plays along – he’s always been great with kids, ever since Tony could remember. Rhodey was known to spoil his nieces and nephews wildly in the Rhodes family, and while Morgan was not a blood relative, she was treated no differently.

“Here we are,” Tony places the long present on Morgan’s lap, grinning as he sees the paper that Rhodey had chosen. “Avengers wrapping paper? They sure don’t make this anymore, Rhodey. Must been an antique.”

“I got it in 2013, you remember when you guys were all the rage after New York?”

_Not so much anymore._

Tony helps Morgan unwrap the present, laughing as his daughter tears into the paper without a care in the world. _God, this stuff would probably still sell for a lot._ The Avengers didn’t have many fans these days, if at all, but memorabilia featuring their likeness still sold for a pretty penny on Ebay. Tony had been known to check, casually purchasing the best action figures of Iron Man for himself. _I’m gonna give Morgan an army of her dad_. That had been his argument to Pepper when she had opened a package chock full of the figures. They now live on a shelf in the office.

“I gotta be honest, teddy graham, this was not what I was expecting.”

“She still has a jungle themed nursery, right?” Rhodey asks anxiously.

Morgan twists one of the buttons of toy hesitantly, screaming in delight when a little plastic lion pops up from underneath its cover. Pepper picks up the phone while Tony points at the next button, Morgan reaching out to press it with wide eyes as the next animal pops up – a giraffe.

“That’s very sweet of you, Jim,” Pepper chats with Rhodey on the phone while Morgan and Tony work to uncover every animal contained in the toy. Morgan is so infatuated with it that she refuses to look at the rest of her presents, slamming down the plastic lids and hiding the animals once again, before going back to work on the many buttons to make them reappear.

“Nat wants to talk to her when she opens her gift from her,” Rhodey is saying, Tony going back to the tree to finding the gift from Natasha, grimacing a little at Morgan’s delighted screams and the popping sound of the animals reappearing.

“You at the compound, Rhodey?” That’s a great surprise to Tony, he expected Rhodey to be spending the day with his brothers and sisters, and what remained of his nieces and nephews after the snap.

“Yeah, I am…” Rhodey sounds a little hesitant to admit it, and continues before Tony can cut him off with something snippy. “Nat’s not been doing too well, Tony. She’s taking on a lot – and you heard about Clint.”

It was impossible to avoid, the massive elephant of Clint Barton’s vigilantism barged into any room that Natasha Romanoff was in. She was desperate to track him down, but he was impossible to find – the only evidence he had visited somewhere being the piles of bodies that he left cut down in his wake. _Maybe it’s a good thing Rhodey stopped by. Though I’m sure Steve… Hell, maybe he didn’t bother to show_. In fact, the last time he had spoken to Nat, she had been torn up over the fact that Steve had moved out of the compound. Tony hadn’t asked where he had moved to, he didn’t particularly care, but it had definitely surprised him.

“Here’s Auntie Nat,” Rhodey says, putting on a cheery voice for both Morgan and Natasha’s sakes.

“Merry Christmas, Morgan,” and Nat’s voice is thick with emotion. _She’s been crying._ Tony finds the neatly wrapped present from her hidden towards the back. She had gone for a very subtle wrapping paper in comparison to Rhodey, and Tony appreciates its decoration of Santa and his many reindeer.

“Wow, Nat…” Pepper says, looking down at the gorgeous red dress where it sits in the wrapping paper, Morgan looking at it for a moment before continuing on with her toys.

“You’re getting really good at this stuff, Nat,” Tony tells her, picking up the dress and holding it up, leaning in to look at the intricate stitches, a gold hair band falling onto his lap. _Iron Man. She made my kid an Iron Man dress._

“I’ve got a lot of time on my hands,” Natasha says quietly, and Tony knows what she’s thinking about, can tell by her tone of voice. _She’s thinking of everyone she lost. We should have her over for dinner sometime. I know how it feels to rattle around in that compound by myself. It’s a prison._

“It’s great, Nat. Thank you.” Tony is sincere, carefully setting the dress aside so it doesn’t get lost in the fray when they clean up the wrapping paper. “We’ll put her in it for dinner and send you a bunch of pictures.” He pauses, rubbing at his chin, wondering if it’s worth bringing up yet another tricky subject. “Have you heard from Bruce?”

Her silence is enough of an answer, and Tony winces when she replies quietly, “No, I haven’t.” There’s a sudden hope in her voice, “Have you?”

Air hisses between his teeth as he exhales harshly. “No, I haven’t. Last I heard from him, he said he was headed into the mountains in North Carolina. But… he told you that, too. That was what --.”

“Six months ago.” Natasha’s voice is hollow.

“You never know,” Tony says quickly ( _shit, shit, shit_ ), “He’ll probably turn up tomorrow. He’ll come back, Nat, he always has.”

“Yeah,” Natasha sounds far away. “Listen, you guys, Rhodey and I are gonna go have lunch, so…”

“Oh, yeah, sure, sure,” Tony grabs the phone, holding it up to Morgan’s ear. “Say goodbye and Merry Christmas to Auntie Nat!”

Morgan does her best to do as she’s told, and Tony thinks he hears a small laugh from Natasha before she hangs up. _At least she laughed. At least there’s that._

* * *

 

Tony rests his forehead against the sliding glass door, looking out over the lake, and then up at the night sky. Pepper had gone upstairs to put Morgan to sleep, their daughter exhausted by the action packed day, surrounded by new toys and clothes. It must’ve been a while ago, because the sun was just setting when Pepper went upstairs. Now it’s night, and Tony is alone.

He stares up at the stars, remembering how they had burned into his vision, making his eyes water as he had hurtled back to Earth.

“Tony?” Pepper’s behind him, her voice uncertain, her hand brushing against his back. “It’s late, are you coming to bed?”

He pulls himself away from the glass slowly, avoiding his own eyes in his reflection. He glances back up at the stars again, just before he turns around to face his wife. “Sure, Pep. Guess I lost track of time.”

_Merry Christmas, Peter._


	8. Chapter 8

“I think this is a little over the top,” Tony decides as he places the bowl of crab legs in the center of the table, nudging one so that it stands up more, wanting to be sure it is at least an impressive center piece if not an ostentatious one.

“Oh, so _now_ you think it’s over the top?” Pepper sounds exasperated as she sets the table, Morgan watching them curiously from her playpen a few yards away from where the action is happening. “I told you we should do one or the other, steak or seafood, you said --.”

“I know what I said,” Tony laughs, reaching over to brush some hair away from her face. _She’s a bit frazzled_. “I said it’s New Year’s Eve, and we’re having guests over for dinner at our house for the first time, so we oughta go all out. I don’t regret it. But it is a little over the top.”

The doorbell rings, and Pepper audibly groans, looking over her shoulder at the mess on the kitchen counter. “Which one of them would be showing up this early? We said 7… Tony, can you…?”

He salutes her and turns around, mussing Morgan’s hair as he walks past her playpen. _It’s either Nat or Rhodey. Probably Rhodey, showing up like a boy scout, ready and willing to help_. Tony turns the door handle, a big grin on his face, and swings open the door.

“What in the actual fuck?” Tony gazes up at the Hulk. Only, he’s not the Hulk – _he’s wearing… glasses? Glasses, a pair of trousers, and a tailored sports jacket._

“Hey, Tony.” It’s Bruce’s voice, sort of, and Tony watches in stunned silence as the Hulk reaches up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly. _Holy Christ. He’s just like Bruce. How is he doing this? Who makes his clothes? Does he make his clothes? Does **Nat** make his clothes? Is that why she’s been sewing all the time, practicing? Oh my God… He’s had a hair cut._

“Uh… Uh… Bruce, buddy – can I call you that? – I didn’t think you were, uh, coming. You never replied to the invite, and Nat said… Look, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say to a Hulk. Except… what the fuck did you **do**?”

“Well…” Tony looks down at Bruce’s hands, seeing the bouquet of flowers he’s holding. _Jesus Christ, they look tiny. He’s holding tiny little flowers._ “Remember how I asked you at your wedding about gamma radiation…?”

Tony steps back into the house, gesturing vaguely with his arm for Bruce to step inside. When Bruce ducks his head and squirms through the doorway, a flabbergasted laugh nearly escapes past Tony’s firmly clamped together lips, his face reddening with the effort of holding back.

“Yeah, you said it would be dangerous. No kidding…”

“It took a while, but I managed to merge my consciousness with the Hulk’s body – fully. There’s no going back to Banner, and there’s no going back to the Hulk.”

“So, uh…” Tony cranes his head to look up at him, “What do I call you?”

“Oh, Bruce is fine. Hulk, too. I think you’d be more comfortable with Bruce, though, right?”

“I invited Bruce Banner, actually --.” Tony grimaces when he hears Pepper call from the kitchen.

“Bruce!” Her footsteps hurry towards them, and then stop. Tony looks over his shoulder at her, happy to see that she looks just as dumbfounded as he had. _This really is fucking weird. This is **weird**._

“Hi, Pepper.” Bruce extends the flowers to her, held gently between massive forefinger and thumb. Pepper reaches out slowly, as if sleepwalking, and accepts the bouquet. “Thanks for inviting me to dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” Pepper says faintly, looking down at the flowers and then up at Bruce. “Can I… Can I get you something to drink?”

_God, she’s a trooper. She’s just rolling with it. I love her._

“A beer would be nice, actually.” Bruce shrugs out of his sports jacket, hanging it up on the hook by the door, Tony nearly wheezing as he watches the hem of the jacket brush against the floor. _It’s basically a blanket. I could make a tent out of that._ “This is a really nice house, Tony. You guys built this?”

Tony looks over at Pepper, “I think you could… serve it in a vase, Pep. In the cabinet above the fridge…”

“Oh, a can is fine, don’t go to any trouble…” Bruce is sheepish again, Tony squinting to see if his cheeks will flush a darker green or a bright red.

“You’d drink a can in like three seconds. A vase for the flowers and a vase for your beer... Beers. It’s no trouble at all. Do you – well, you just stand there, and I’ll bring her to you. I think that’ll be better…” Tony starts walking towards the kitchen, wondering how Morgan will react to a massive green behemoth in her living room. _Please don’t scream. I promise I’ll never subject you to anything this weird ever again_. “Does Nat know – that you’re coming, and that you…?”

Bruce shakes his head, nearly knocking into the ceiling fan. He steadies it, and shifts closer to the wall where there seems to be less things to knock over. His shoulder brushes against the framed photograph of Pepper, Morgan, and Tony hung on the wall, and he grimaces and catches it before it can fall to the floor. “No. I thought she might not come if she knew I’d be here, and… I mean, it’s not exactly something I can say on the phone.”

 _No kidding_. Morgan is reaching out for him, wearing the red dress Nat had made for her, since Nat is supposed to be attending tonight. Tony fixes the bow in her hair as he carries her out of the kitchen. “Okay. This might be scary,” he tells her honestly, “but it’s just your Uncle Bruce. Very green, but still Uncle Bruce. I think…”

Morgan doesn’t scream when she catches sight of the Hulk looming in the doorway to the living room. Her brown eyes widen, and she grabs at Tony’s shirt a little tighter, but she doesn’t turn her face away to hide.

“Hi, Morgan,” Bruce says softly, crouching so that he’s at least level with Tony now. “We’ve not met before, but it’s very nice to meet you now.”

Morgan grasps his pinky in her fist when Bruce offers it to her, and they both smile. Tony exhales loudly, shaking his head.

“I honestly thought she was going to throw a fit looking at you. The biggest thing she’s ever seen that wasn’t Pep or me was a Dalmatian she saw once when we were on a walk in the village. She loved it, though. Maybe she thinks you’re a very green, strange looking dog… Do you wanna hold her?”

Bruce blanches, if a Hulk can blanch, and shakes his head quickly. “No, no. She’s too small. I’m afraid I’d accidentally squeeze too hard, and, well…”

“Squeeze my kid to death?” Tony asks cheerfully, hearing the doorbell ring and turning just as the door opens. Natasha Romanoff stands on the front step, halfway in the house and halfway out. She’d stopped in her tracks upon seeing Bruce. _It’s hard to miss him. Elephant in the room._

“Hi, Nat,” Bruce says uncertainly, dropping his hand away from Morgan and instead shoving his hands into his pockets. Tony is very familiar with that trick, he hides his hands in his pockets when he’s anxious, when he knows they’ll tremble and reveal a bit of weakness better left hidden. He tightens his grip on Morgan and squeezes into the living room, just out of the way enough that it appears like he’s giving Nat and Bruce their privacy. _Wonder if she’d sleep with him now. She’d end up in the hospital, right? Bet Bruce didn’t think of that._

“Bruce,” Natasha says stiffly, still staring up at him, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s seeing. _Yeah, I still don’t believe it._

“Hey, Nat, am I the last one to get here? Damn, I thought for sure I’d beat you…” Rhodey trails off as he looks over Natasha’s shoulder into the house, “Hey, what the **fuck** is that? Why is the Hulk wearing clothes and… glasses – in your house, Tony?”

“I think we all need a drink,” Tony decides, edging towards the kitchen. “Come on, I’m sure we can all fit. It’s a big house. I don’t know about getting you a chair at the dining table, Bruce – we sort of set it for five, not fifty… But we’ll make it work. Maybe a chair out in the ‘shop would do better… How much do you weigh?”

Bruce shrugs, ducking his head again to make it into the kitchen. Pepper looks more frazzled than ever, her hair stuck up in wisps around her face, her skin flushed pink. This was supposed to be an enjoyable New Years celebration, but now it seems like it’s just going to be incredibly, painfully awkward. Tony places Morgan in her high chair, ignoring her very loud protests, attempting to pacify her with her stuffed elephant.

“Bet you’re glad we made crab and steak now, huh, Pep?” She shoots him a look and Tony grins back at her, grabbing the vase full of cold beer and handing it over to Bruce, who accepts it with a grateful expression. “What can I get everybody to drink?” He tosses Rhodey a beer, already knowing his answer.

“Wine,” Nat says immediately, making a beeline over to where Tony is pouring generous glasses of red wine for her and Pepper.

“I’ll go get you a new chair, Bruce…” Tony pulls the wooden chair away from the table. He trusts the craftsmanship up to about 450 pounds, but after that… He didn’t want to spend the first few minutes of the brand new year plucking splinters out of a very green ass.

Natasha and Pepper are chatting when Tony moves out of the kitchen, passing Bruce and Rhodey where they stand in the living room with their beers. The garage is mercifully silent, everything in its proper place, and not a hint of paralyzing awkwardness to be found. He gets distracted by the helmet resting on the countertop, pausing to pick it up and inspect it. Were Pepper to see it, she would wonder why he was changing up his color scheme from his usual red and gold to blue and gold. He opens a drawer and shoves the helmet inside, not believing he would leave it out. _Hey, Pep. Happy anniversary a few years early. Jesus._ The suit isn’t nearly ready enough to present her with, anyways. With all the work they have planned for the house, Tony hardly has a spare minute to dedicate to building a new suit that isn’t using his own specifications. _Plus, I want it to be perfect._

He grabs a sturdy metal chair that had been carelessly shoved into the back of the garage, Tony rarely sat while he was working – always on the move, bouncing across the room like an overexcited puppy – which he sometimes felt like, when he had a particularly excellent idea. Like Pepper’s suit.

Flicking the lights off, he trudges through the melting snow back to the house, the metal freezing in his hands even though it had only been exposed to the elements for a minute or two. Once inside, Tony sets the chair down to rub his hands together, glancing up as Bruce plods over to where he’s standing.

“Thanks, Tony, I’ll move it to the dining room.”

_Oh, yeah, sure. It’s probably like picking up a feather for him. Damn, this is weird._

“Dinner’s ready!” Pepper sounds a tiny bit tipsy, Tony grinning as he makes his way to the kitchen. _They’ve both probably drunk the bottle by now, Nat looked like she needed it._ Tony grabs a sparkling water from the fridge, takes his seat next to Pepper, and without another word, everyone digs into the food.

The iciness Nat has been displaying towards Bruce slowly thaws as the meal progresses, and while Tony doesn’t think she’ll sleep with him again ( _That definitely would be a hospital stay, right?_ ) he’s happy to see Natasha laugh and smile. Her mood had plummeted since Bruce had fallen off the radar, just as Clint had started to ping on the radar. _Except Clint is up to some fucked up shit_. It seemed like his way of coping with the death that surrounded them was to bring about more death. _I see where he’s coming from, though. To lose your entire family, while criminals survive. Don’t know if I’d do it, though._ No, if he lost Pepper and Morgan, he’d be inconsolable. Tony rests his cheek against his fist, looking over at where Morgan is pushing around a piece of her favorite cereal on her high chair tray. _I’d probably kill myself if they died._

By the time midnight rolls around, Morgan is tucked up peacefully in her crib, and everyone aside from Tony has gotten pretty damn drunk. _God, I want a drink. Just a little one. No one will notice_. He almost does it, too, as he pours out four glasses of champagne. It would be so easy to pour a fifth glass, Pepper wouldn’t notice at all. No one would know, except him. But he had made this promise to Pepper, and Morgan too. With a sigh, he places the empty fifth glass back into the cupboard, and hurries to the living room with everyone’s drinks just as they start to count down from ten.

“Tony!” Pepper is delighted to see him, though he’d only stepped out of the room for five minutes. She throws her arms around his neck just as the countdown reaches one and kisses him, and Tony laughs against her lips.

“Hey, happy new year, Pep,” Tony murmurs, kissing her one last time before he can give everyone their champagne, glad he hadn’t spilled any when Pepper had thrown herself bodily at him.

At around 12:15, everyone suddenly decides that it’s time to go to bed. Tony stands at the foot of the stairs, blocking his guests from going up just yet.

“Look, guys,” he whispers, his hand pressed against Bruce’s massive chest to stop him from staggering past him. “There are only two bedrooms. Bruce, we didn’t know if you were coming, buddy, so that’s a bit of a problem. Nat…” Tony steps aside so that the redhead can stumble up the stairs. “Naturally, you have your own room,” he says to her back before turning to look at Rhodey and Bruce. “Now, if you guys wanna share a bed, I won’t bat an eye. Rhodey, you’ll probably be crushed to death, though.”

“I’m taking the couch,” Rhodey slurs, turning on his heels and leaning against the wall for support as he shuffles towards the living room.

“Okay, big guy, please don’t destroy the bed. It’s brand new, no one’s ever slept on it…” Tony steps back to allow Bruce to thunder his way up the stairs, wincing as he imagines the steps he’d worked so hard on bending pitifully under Bruce’s weight. There’s no staircase collapse, though, and finally it is just him and Pepper, his wife wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

“You got a bit drunk, huh?” Pepper laughs in his ear in response, and Tony takes that as a clue that she probably won’t be able to conquer the stairs on her own. He groans as he lifts her up into his arms, his muscles protesting, sweat beading on his forehead as he slowly ascends the stairs. _It was either this or watch her tumble and break her neck._ Pepper had never gone as far as carrying Tony up to bed in the early days, when she would collect him from some club with alcohol practically streaming out of his pores, but she’d shepherd him to his bedroom and keep him from injuring himself. It was the least he could do.

“Here,” he wheezes, setting her down on the edge of the bed, catching his breath as he rubs at his sore biceps. “Hang on, let me get you undressed.” He grabs her by her ankle before she can squirm her way to the head of the bed, dodging a wild kick from Pepper, the sharp heel of her Louboutins glinting maleficently in the moonlight.

“D’ya have any resolutions?” She asks him rather placidly as he tosses her heels into the closet, going limp as he pulls the dress over her head and blindly throws it towards the location of the hamper. He decides to leave her in her underwear, stripping down into his own before climbing into bed with her.

“Oh,” he says thoughtfully, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him, reaching up to brush some of her wild strands of hair away from where they had gotten caught in his mouth. “To make you fall even more in love with me.” It’s a facetious response, but it is his real resolution. That, and to be the best father to Morgan that he can be.

“You can’t,” Pepper slurs, tapping him gently on the chest. “I love you too much already.”

“Really? How much is that, then?”

“… Tons.” Pepper almost doesn’t answer him, already drifting off to sleep in his arms, and it takes a while for her to register his question and respond.

“Wow. Tons.” Tony smiles, closing his eyes as he listens to Pepper’s breathing deepen. “Love you, Pep.” She doesn’t respond, already asleep in his arms, but she doesn’t have to – because Tony already knows that she loves him too.

* * *

 

“Tony.” Pepper is shaking him awake roughly, her voice urgent. Tony groans, slinging an arm across his eyes when he opens them to bright sunlight. “Tony, wake up. I think there’s someone outside.”

That gets Tony out of bed in less than ten seconds, stumbling over to the window, his hair a mess of curls. He shivers slightly as he approaches the frosted over window, peering out of it on his tiptoes for a better vantage point. He inhales sharply when he sees what looks like a red laser burning through the snow outside of their bedroom. _Oh, god. This can’t be happening. No one knows that we’re here. Who told them?_ He rips open his underwear drawer, grabbing the reactor where it has lain buried under his socks for over a year, pressing it to his chest.

“Stay here,” he tells Pepper seriously, the armor already spreading over his bare skin. _At least I’m wearing underwear. If I wasn’t, I’d be about to have a very cheap vasectomy._ “I’ll check it out. Stay quiet. If I’m not back in five minutes or if you hear… FRIDAY will activate the bunker protocol.”

“Tony,” Pepper starts to argue, but he’s already slipping out of their bedroom, the suit ever so quiet compared to the original design.

“FRIDAY, what do we have?” Tony approaches the front door, the HUD showing him a blurry image of a roughly human shape trudging around the front of his lake house.

“A humanoid, boss, but…”

He opens the door and is into the air, doing his best to ignore the burst of joy that always comes when he’s in the suit. He’s not invincible, he knows that, though when he’s Iron Man, he sure feels like he is. Like he could take on anything, and win. He lifts one arm, the repulsor whining, and fixes it on the figure below him. His eyes follow the path of the laser, the source appearing to be the individual’s arm. The individual’s blue arm. Tony’s eyes widen, lowering his arm and slowly descending back to the ground. The boots of the suit crunch in the fresh snow, which melts almost instantly from the heat of the jets.

“Nebula?”

“Stark.” She almost smiles as she looks at him, the helmet retracting and revealing his bedhead and bewildered eyes. “So, this is snow.”

“How did you…?” Tony has not seen Nebula since his return to Earth, allowing the cybernetically enhanced super assassin to get on with her own life as he had gotten on with his. He hadn’t forgotten her, though – how could he? She had been his only companion in space, had saved him from certain death when infection had come calling to the wound in his side. She was actually kind of fun, once you got to know her – in a terrifying way.

“Natasha gave me your address. I was disappointed to discover I was not invited to your…” Nebula makes a face, returning to her previous activity of melting the snow, this time with a laser coming out of her left eye. Tony shudders. “I believe it is called New Year’s Eve? Yes, very disappointed.”

Tony blinks. “You came all the way over here to tell me that you’re mad that I didn’t invite you to a party? Nebula, I didn’t even know you were back on Earth.” He reaches up and starts to brush snow out of his hair, his breath puffing in front of him. “It’s fucking freezing out here. Though that’s a very handy built-in snowplow you’ve got there…” _Pepper would kill me if I put lasers in my eyes._ “Do you wanna…” He pauses, his hand resting against the top of his head as he takes a split second to think. “Do you wanna come inside? I can get you a cup of… tea?”

“Tea.” Nebula repeats, the laser flickering out – much to Tony’s relief. “Yes, I’ll have some tea. Is Pepper home?”

“Well… It is like six in the morning, so yeah, she’s home. Morgan’s home too. You’ve heard about Morgan, right?”

He starts walking back towards the front door, gesturing for Nebula to follow him. He steps back on the front porch to allow her inside, shaking his head at her back, totally disbelieving that she’s come to visit.

“Yes, you’ve had a child. I would like to see it. Her.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure.” Tony grimaces, not sure how to prepare Morgan for this one. _I promised you nothing else was going to be weird, but I guess I lied._

“Is it typical to get snow at this time in the year?” Nebula takes a seat at the kitchen counter, lifting up a framed photograph of Pepper and Morgan having a tea party in the living room, all of Morgan’s stuffed animals in attendance. Morgan was a bit too young to understand the social decorum necessary in holding a tea party, but she had still made an excellent hostess as she had attempted to cram plastic chocolate chip cookies into the mouth of her stuffed alligator.

“In March? Oh, yeah,” Tony flicks on the kettle, leaning against the counter and watching anxiously as Nebula inspects everything within arm’s reach. “Hopefully this should be the end of it, though, I wanted to start a garden as soon as it melts.”

“I could assist in melting it,” Nebula offers, gesturing to his suit with a frown. “Though you are perfectly capable of melting it yourself, Stark. Unless you have modified the suit so that it only flies and does not have weaponry? Rogers had mentioned that you retired.”

Tony’s jaw sets, the metal fingers of his gauntlet clinking against the granite counter top as he taps out a melody, attempting to quash the anger rising in him before it can intensify into an inferno of fury. “You speak to Rogers, then? I didn’t know you were still in contact with anyone.”

“I’ve agreed to become a member of the Avengers. Natasha is at the helm, now. Rogers has also retired, in case you were wondering.” Nebula understands Tony’s anger at the other man, she had listened to the entire story as they had floated adrift on the Benatar. “I have been in the outer sectors of the galaxy, assisting Captain Danvers. Rocket has also been helping. I suppose I am becoming used to him…” She accepts the mug of tea placed in front of her without thanks, but Tony knows she doesn’t have to say it. He hadn’t said it when she had pressed the last of the food back into his hands. Neither of them need to hear the words, at least, not from the other.

Pepper’s head appears, peering over the edge of the doorway leading into the kitchen, a long piece of metal in hand – the poker that she had grabbed from the fireplace before hurrying down the stairs to come to his rescue. “Oh my god, Nebula.” She lowers the poker and walks into the kitchen, staring at the blue alien in amazement. “I thought someone had killed Tony and had come inside to make a cup of tea.” She exhales shakily, the poker clinking against the counter when Pepper sets it down so that she can embrace Nebula.

Nebula blinks, processing what is occurring, before her arms slowly rise to hug Pepper in return. “I’m sorry I scared you, Pepper. Natasha said you both enjoy hosting visitors.”

“Usually with a bit of forewarning,” Tony mutters under his breath, sliding Pepper her own cup of tea before looking at both of them. “I’m going to go put some clothes on and bring Morgan down.”

Nebula raises her eyebrows.

“I don’t usually wear the suit around the house,” Tony says defensively, hurrying out of the kitchen while Pepper tries to muffle her laughter as she sips her tea.

“It’s a nice suit. I would like a suit,” Nebula suggests, though Tony is already stomping his way up the stairs. “How is he?” She asks once he is out of earshot, looking at Pepper earnestly. “How are you?”

“He’s better,” is Pepper’s honest answer. “He’s much better. He’s still coping, with what happened. But his nightmares are happening less frequently, and I think he’s getting used to a life where he doesn’t have to be a superhero. Well, he is a superhero, to Morgan. But he’s not putting his life in danger every day. It’s a nice change. He had some issues with his heart, I’m sure you’ve heard…” Perhaps not everything Pepper told Natasha was kept in confidence, but she doesn’t mind Nebula knowing. Nebula had saved Tony’s life, and for that, Pepper will be eternally indebted to her. “But it’s being medicated. We’re doing great, I think. Has he told you about the garden?”

“Yes,” Nebula frowns slightly. “It is interesting that he wants to create one. Thanos also had the same desire, once his work was done.” Nebula’s fingers drum on the countertop. “Not that I am comparing the two. I’m sure Stark’s garden will be much nicer.” Pepper can only smile bemusedly, shaking her head at Nebula’s attempt at providing consolation.

“If you give Tony your address… in space… I’m sure he’ll find a way to send you one of his first tomatoes. I think that’s the first thing he plans to plant, and he’ll be very proud of his yield…”

“Rhodey made me a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. It was very good. Could I make a soup out of the tomato?”

“Not out of one tomato, I don’t think…” Meanwhile, as Nebula and Pepper continue to chat about Tony’s plans for the land, Tony is getting Morgan dressed for the day.

“You’re about to meet the blue meanie,” he tells her, sequestering her on the changing table while he rummages through her clothes for an appropriate outfit. “Oh, yes, this is very good,” Tony nods as he holds up a jumpsuit covered in happy looking hedgehogs. “Do you have a matching hat for this?” He glances back at Morgan, discovering that she has once again rolled from her back onto her stomach. Tony sets the outfit down and gives her a polite round of applause. “Excellent form, as always, Ms. Stark. A champion roll. Your mom would kill me if she knew I took my eyes off of you while you were up here. Thanks for not rolling off the table.”

He gets her dressed, Morgan grasping at the fabric of his cardigan as she always does, waiting expectantly for him to pull some sort of toy or treat out of the pocket like he always does. A small stuffed dog appears as they climb down the stairs, and she laughs as Tony presses it to her face, making exaggerated kissing noises.

“Nebula, meet Morgan. Morgan, meet Nebula.” Tony shifts Morgan in his arms so they can see each other properly, the dog falling out of her hand as she looks at Nebula with wide eyes. “Yes, I know what you’re thinking, she’s blue.”

“That is a child,” Nebula says, expression thoughtful.

“Yes…” Tony replies uncertainly, glancing at Morgan. “I think that’s one way of looking at it. Do you wanna hold her?”

Nebula offers out her arms almost instantly, and Tony grins. She has as much of a heart as anyone else, but Tony had never imagined Nebula to be one for children. She’d be vaguely able to tolerate them, he had figured, but never desire to be that close to one. Nebula holds Morgan carefully in front of her, her legs dangling, feet kicking gently.

“Yes,” Nebula says as she looks Morgan up and down. “I can see both of you in her. Hello Morgan.”

Morgan giggles, reaching out and cupping Nebula’s face in her hands. _Probably an interesting mixture of textures, right? She definitely thinks Nebula is a toy and not a living person. I shouldn’t have bought her that stuffed alien._

“Would you like to see my eye lasers?” Nebula asks her seriously, shifting Morgan so that she rests against her chest, already making her way out of the kitchen towards the front door.

“Eye lasers…” Pepper repeats slowly. “Tony, I don’t think…”

“Don’t worry,” Tony calls, jogging after Nebula, grabbing his coat from the rack. “I’ll supervise. Wait up, Nebula, she needs her coat!”

Pepper shakes her head slowly, sipping her tea as she follows after her husband. Yes, things are better for the both of them – and things are also certainly different – but living with Tony Stark has taught her that no matter how many times her husband insists that their life can be normal now, blue aliens with eye lasers will be always accepted into their life without a second thought.


	9. Chapter 9

Much to Tony’s chagrin, they get their last snowfall in early April. Tony stands at the window and gazes on in horror as the tomato plants he had grown from seed inside and recently transplanted to the plot wither and die under the heavy snow. The swear jar rapidly fills, and some of those funds are later used to purchase more mature tomato plants from the garden center. 

When the snow finally melts for the final time, Tony is up before the sun can fully rise. Pepper watches him sleepily as he gets dressed quietly, thinking that she’s still asleep. He throws on a pair of worn jeans and a holey, disgustingly stained t-shirt that usually never sees the light of day – but he needs clothes that can get dirty.

“Up early, Tony,” Pepper murmurs, smiling slightly when she sees him jump.  

“Jesus --,” his hand rests against his chest, feeling his heart race against his palm, looking at her accusatorily and guiltily all at once. “Sorry, hon. I thought I was quiet enough…” He pads over to her in his socked feet, leaning down to kiss her good morning. Her arms wrap around his neck loosely, her fingers shifting through the hair at the back of his neck. He’s wonderfully warm, and she longs to pull him back into bed with her, but she knows he has a schedule that he wants to stick to.

“Moving the tomatoes today?” She asks him as she releases him, watching as he sits on the edge of the bed to pull his boots on, his back to her.

“Yes, and I swear to God if it snows again I’m just going to give up on the idea of having a garden at all. Snow in April. Fucking ridiculous.” He sounds exasperated, but Pepper knows that he loves the snow. He had built numerous snowmen in increasingly intricate design throughout the course of the winter. Pepper had even caught him sketching a detailed plan for the army of snow-dogs he had built for Morgan, their daughter recently having fallen in love with any dog she saw. It had taken them almost an hour to convince her to come back inside once he had built them, her little nose bright red from the cold but her brown eyes lit up with delight.

“But yeah…” Tony hums as Pepper shifts on the bed, moving to hug him from behind, her lips placing soft kisses on his neck. “Tomatoes, onions, and peas today… I might plant some sunflowers in the afternoon.” Sunflowers are his favorite kind of flowers, and Pepper knew that, he could tell by the way her lips curve into a smile against his skin. “You girls come out after breakfast. You know I like the company. Plus, I need to recruit Morgan as my garden assistant or I’ll lose my mind with all the work I’m setting up for myself.”

Pepper releases him for the final time, pulling the duvet around her shoulders as Tony makes his way for the door. “You got it, honey,” she starts to slowly sink back down onto the bed, the sun barely peeking out over the horizon. “Have fun…” She murmurs sleepily, and Tony smiles to himself as he climbs down the stairs two at a time.

“What’s the weather looking like, FRIDAY?” Tony asks around his mouthful of pills, quickly swallowing a burning gulp of fresh coffee before the bitter taste of the pills melting against his tongue makes him gag. “If it’s even a single degree below 70, I’m gonna be pissed.”

“High of 72 and low of 57, boss. Still an acceptable range to plant your crops, according to my research.”

“I’ll bet,” he mutters, pouring a little more coffee into his thermos, leaning forward to sip the smallest amount away so that he can secure the lid without spilling any on the counter. “How’s Morgan?”

“She is emerging from REM presently… No major disturbances to report.”

“Anything else worth discussing before I head out?” Tony nudges the spade in the wicker basket that sits on the small table by the front door. Pepper had placed it there the night before, and she had even tucked the small tomato plants into the basket for him to save him a trip back into the house to collect them. _I love her_.

“Natasha Romanoff sent you a report on Clint Barton’s activities in northern China. Shall I summarize?”

Tony grimaces, shouldering open the door. He’s about to step out before he pauses, conflicted. “What was the casualty count?”

“37, boss.”

Tony shakes his head, the basket dangling by his side. _Thirty-seven. God, Barton. I wish Nat could get ahold of you. You’re creeping closer and closer to five hundred. Are you just going to do this forever?_ “Run the usual scans and send them to Nat. I’m sure he’s long gone, though.” Retired he might be, but Tony still does the occasional favor for Natasha – and finding Clint Barton is technically not official Avengers business for either of them. 

He spends the morning carefully planting the tomato plants and packets of seeds in the garden plot he had built months ago, the soil refreshingly cool as it stains his hands and gets trapped under his fingernails. He has a ruler in his basket, wanting his garden to be an accurate recreation of the blueprint he had created for it during their winter hibernation. Tony glances up when he hears Morgan’s voice, grinning when he sees Pepper carrying their daughter out of the house and over to the garden. He’s on his second packet of seeds, peas – one of Morgan’s favorite vegetables, so naturally, a necessity for their garden.

“Hey there, Ms. Stark. How’d you sleep?” Morgan is set down carefully on her own two feet, her new shoes dazzlingly white, complete with a pink butterfly on the side. The pink butterfly matches the one on the shirt that she wears under the overalls Pepper had put her in. Morgan stands next to Pepper’s legs, one arm wrapped around one for support. She’s able to stand up on her own most of the time in the house, but outside, she gets a little uncertain.

Tony glances back down at the soil in front of him, gently making a divot to place the seeds into, and is unfortunately not looking at their daughter when she speaks.

“Dada,” Morgan says simply, as if she’s been speaking real words this whole time. Tony turns to face her in a flash, a full body motion, his heart pounding. He jerks his head up, squinting against the sun, to look at Pepper with wide eyes.

“Did you hear that? Did she just – did she just say…?”

“Dada,” Morgan says again, this time with a giggle, squatting down slowly so that she can stick her hands into the soil, thankfully not where Tony had planted any seeds.

“Yes!” Tony leaps to his feet, hauling Morgan up with him. He holds her to his chest, spinning around in a giddy circle. “Do you know what you just did, baby? You just said your first word! Your very first word!” He holds Morgan out to Pepper like an offering, and Pepper leans forward to press a kiss to Morgan’s forehead. “Technically, dada isn’t actually a real word, but it’s pretty damn close, honey.” He glances up at Pepper as he bends down to return Morgan to the soil, allowing her to grab the spade and attempt to dig. “I’m sure mama will be next. No doubt about it.”

“I’m not jealous,” Pepper insists with a smile, sitting down in the dirt beside Morgan, reaching out to stop their 8 month old from eating a handful of soil. “Let’s leave that on the ground, honey.”

“You’ll get worms,” Tony tells Morgan as he takes her small hand in his, pouring out a few seeds. “So, let’s distract you from the dirt. Nice overalls, by the way, very stylish. It’s a shame your mommy’s not wearing the pair I bought her, but I guess you can’t win them all.” He grins as Morgan gently places the seeds into the hole in the dirt, one by one, with dexterousness not usually exhibited by a baby. _But Pep and I’ve made a remarkable kid._

They spend the rest of the day out in the garden, Morgan crawling through the grass and screaming bloody murder when she happened upon a massive grasshopper. Tony had come running, armed with the spade, ready to attack whatever was causing his kid to scream like that. Pepper was out of the house in an instant, their lunch forgotten, breathless by the time she had sprinted over to them. She had gone very pale when she had seen the colorful grasshopper stood on Tony’s palm, her fear of large bugs keeping her a few steps away, wincing when Morgan reached out one finger to stroke along a crystalline wing. The grasshopper didn’t particularly appreciate the touch, and had hopped away into the grass, Morgan clapping her hands and laughing.

After dinner, Tony falls asleep on the couch, Morgan curled up on his chest. Pepper sits down in the loveseat beside them, brushing her hand over Morgan’s forehead gently, pushing her hair away from her eyes. She quietly takes a picture of her sleeping husband and daughter, making it her phone background with a soft smile before leaning over Tony, kissing him awake.

“Mmm,” he mumbles against her lips, brown eyes opening slowly. He raises an eyebrow when she presses a hand against his shoulder to keep him from sitting up, becoming aware of the weight on his chest. “Oh…” He whispers, grinning down at Morgan. “Wow, she’s cute, huh?" 

“She is. You wore her out with all of your garden excitement. And that grasshopper.” Pepper shudders. 

“Don’t worry, babe,” Tony turns his head, kissing the inside of her wrist gently. “As cool looking as he was, he’ll kill my crops. There will be an anti-grasshopper initiative at this house.” He moves to cradle Morgan in his arms before sitting up, their daughter sighing in her sleep as she’s shifted, but not stirring. He hands her gently to Pepper, getting to his feet and following after his wife so that they can tuck their daughter in together.

“Guess there’s no story time tonight,” Tony says quietly, carefully moving Morgan’s stuffed animals aside so that she can be placed into her crib. Her stuffed elephant has seen better days, especially since his most recent swim in the lake – Morgan had thrown him with such ferocity that Tony had had to venture out into the lake in his swimming trunks to rescue him. “It’s a shame, I was really getting into _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe._ ”

“I know,” Pepper replies with a slight smile, watching as Morgan pulls the elephant against her in her sleep. “The other night you were talking in your sleep and told me that you would totally sell me out for some Turkish delight.”

Tony laughs loudly, and then looks down at Morgan in panic – fearing that he had woken her. There are a few tense seconds, both parents holding their breath, but thankfully Morgan settles without much more than a sigh.

“Did I really?” Tony asks Pepper seriously as they walk out of Morgan’s nursery hand in hand. 

“No,” Pepper smiles. “You actually said you’d do it for a Kit Kat.”

“That sounds more like me,” Tony replies, satisfied.

* * *

 

“Great weather,” Tony says, for the umpteenth time, as he pulls up the weather app on his phone yet again. “Fantastic weather, some might say… Perfect weather, even.”

Pepper looks up from where she’s sat on the couch, novel in hand. She raises an eyebrow at him. “Tony, if you want to go swimming so badly, you don’t need my permission. Just go…”

“I want you to come with me,” he sighs dramatically, flopping onto the couch beside her and nearly crushing her legs, had Pepper not predicted the movement and quickly moved them out of the way. “You, and Morgan… It’s perfect weather, Pep. Why would I lie to you?” 

“Tony. The last time we went swimming together, it was fun for about ten minutes, and then you cannonballed off of the dock and into the water next to me, and I got drenched. It ruined the book I was reading… Plus, you had promised that it would be peaceful and that you would behave.”

Tony looks at her solemnly, raising his right hand. “Virginia Elizabeth Stark… née Potts. I hereby solemnly swear that I shall not jump into the lake… right next to you, anyways. I may jump into the lake at a different location, but I do so vow to be at least ten feet away from you. I cannot promise that you won’t get splashed from the waves that will inevitably radiate outwards, however… I also recall drying each page of that book with a hairdryer, for hours, to make you stop being mad at me.” Tony cocks his head, deciding to pull out all the stops, and stares at her pleadingly.

Pepper’s poker face lasts all of about ten seconds. She sighs with a slight smile, tucking her bookmark between the pages and leaning in to kiss him slowly. “Alright, you win. I hope Morgan doesn’t inherit your puppy dog eyes, or we’re both doomed.” She pulls away, getting to her feet and stretching. “I’ll go change Morgan into her suit. You wanna be on float duty?" 

Tony hops to his feet, excitement palpable. “Absolutely. I told you we’d use them!” Tony had been forced to make quite the compelling case to purchase the flamingo and unicorn pool floats, though eventually Pepper had acquiesced. He heads out to the garage, already dressed in his swimming trunks, humming to himself.

The sun beats down on his back, and he slows his pace, enjoying the heat of it after a long winter. It had gotten cold on the Benatar, too, so cold that he would wake from a deep sleep with his teeth chattering. So cold that he had tried to hold each breath a little longer, furious with himself as each breath escaped and took a little more heat with it. The chill in the air during winter, as he had labored outside shoveling snow, reminded him of the cold ground of Titan as the heat of Peter Parker’s chest against his palm had faded into nothing at all. Into cold nothing. _Stop._ He can’t think about that now, it’s been days since he thought of Peter’s death. An all time record, in truth. _I’m going to have a good day with my kid and my wife, and I’m not going to think about that. God, I can’t keep thinking about that._ He opens the door to the garage on autopilot, the lights flickering on as they sense his movement.

He skirts around the chicken coop, now completed and waiting for occupants, and glances over at where Dum-E and U are whirring with excitement at his entrance.

“Sorry, fellas. Can’t bring you guys with me. You’d short out. And then drown, probably… Neither of you have limbs, and I never taught you to swim…” Tony stretches up on his tiptoes to reach the top shelf, fingertips barely brushing against the cardboard boxes of the pool floats. _Why the hell did I put these things all the way up there?_ Glancing over his shoulder at the open door for witnesses, he hoists himself up onto the countertop once he’s sure that the coast is clear – Pepper would laugh herself to tears if she saw him struggling to get these things down. _Nah, this would be embarrassing. I only allow her to laugh at me on my terms._ He lands, both feet back on the ground, the boxes tucked under each arm. 

“I’ll be back later to work on the suit. Stay out of trouble.” Pepper’s anniversary suit is coming together little by little, frantically worked upon in the spare minutes he can slip from both Pepper and Morgan’s attentions. _At this rate, it’ll be a tenth anniversary helmet._ He’s barely done with the helmet, but it doesn’t help that he wakes up in the night with brilliant ideas for it, scribbled down furtively in the notebook he keeps on the bedside table. A dream journal, he had told Pepper – who had smiled and promised not to read it. It was a dream journal, of sorts – he had been dreaming of Pepper flying beside him in a suit of her own ever since she had worn his after New York and the attack on their home in Malibu.

He bypasses the house, figuring that Pepper and Morgan will meet him at the lake. He walks down the dock he’d installed just a few weeks ago, the wood worn against the soles of his feet. Tony had sanded it for what felt like years, wanting to ensure a splinter free environment. Tony takes a seat on the edge of the dock, his feet dipping into the water, and begins to unwrap the floats from their boxes. He gets the flamingo inflated first, and is rather red in the face from the effort by the time Pepper and Morgan make their way to the shore. 

“Hey ladies,” Tony wheezes, holding the flamingo float over his head. “Kinda a cruel thing to make the guy with the decreased lung capacity do, Pep, but I forgive you. I’m taking the flamingo, though, you can have the unicorn.”

“Do you want me to blow it up?” Pepper does look concerned, her fingers brushing over his hair as she stands beside him. “You’re all red, honey.”

“Don’t worry about it, Pep. It’s why you have a husband, right? If I couldn’t inflate two pool floats, I’d be horrified. That’s a lovely outfit you have on, Morgie. Completing the look with a swim diaper, I see.” He reaches up and tickles Morgan teasingly, smiling as she squirms away from his touch with a few breathless giggles. “Wow, Mommy even put you in the swim shirt Daddy picked out. I’m flattered.” Tony could not let it go un-purchased, the blue fabric covered with robot decals of many shapes and sizes. While her pink swim diaper didn’t exactly match her shirt, she looked adorable either way. 

“I put a bunch of sunscreen on her,” Pepper says uncertainly, stepping off of the dock and onto the shore, allowing Morgan to stand on the pebbles beside her, their daughter clutching her leg as the water rolls over her feet. “And I brought her hat.” Morgan protests vocally as the floppy sunhat is placed on her head, Pepper batting her hands away to keep Morgan from knocking it off her head. “Do you think she needs sunglasses?”

“She thankfully inherited my complexion,” Tony reminds her, taking a few deep breaths after getting the unicorn halfway inflated. “She’s got a hat, she’s got sunscreen, that shirt has UV protection… I think she’s fine, Pep. Do _you_ have sunscreen on, though? As much as I would enjoy covering you in aloe later… You’ll whine all night if you get sunburned.” And she is wearing a particularly flattering bikini, Tony notes, as his gaze ranges over her a little lecherously for the briefest of moments before returning to the unicorn float.

“Why is it, Tony, that you like to take the things that you do, and spin them to be about other people? I remember when we went to Venice, and you had that awful sunburn on your back that you cried in the shower later – and whined all night that you were sunburned.”

Tony nods, admitting defeat. _I remember that too. God, that was awful. Fun trip, though._ He gazes out over the water for a moment, reflecting. He and Pepper had stayed in this gorgeous hotel, with massive windows overlooking a particularly gorgeous canal. _Then there was the gondola ride…_ It was the first time Tony had ever told her that he loved her, shortly after their first kiss. A little vacation together, he had insisted – the right way to start off their official relationship… and a little rest and recuperation for him after having very nearly died. Once again, Pepper had taken care of him, exasperatedly slathering on aloe after having warned Tony that he would burn without sunscreen – with Tony insisting that he didn’t burn, only tanned. Pepper had been correct. 

“I think you get some sort of sadistic pleasure out of proving me wrong. It was the very first thing you did on your very first day at Stark Industries. I’m onto you, Potts.”

Pepper grins at him, “Your detective skills really are improving, Tony.” She laughs as he throws the inflated unicorn at her, catching it and setting it on the water. Morgan squawks as she’s lifted up into the air, legs kicking in protest.

Tony sets his own float on the water, diving off of the dock and into the lake. The moment he is submerged fully in the water, everything pauses – if only for a little while. He closes his eyes, swimming deeper, fingers reaching out for the small rocks beneath him. Everything is quiet under water. After having been water boarded in Afghanistan, he had vowed that he would never go swimming again. That changed when they moved to the lake, which was always peaceful with water that was always refreshingly cool whenever he dived in. Everything could disappear, and Tony could be himself, go wherever he pleased, always reaching out for the next stroke to take him deeper into the water. 

“Dada!” Morgan laughs when her father’s head pops up out of the water beside the unicorn float, Tony shaking his head to get the water out of his ears, droplets flying off of his hair and landing on Pepper and Morgan.  

“That’s me,” he leans in and presses a wet kiss to his daughter’s cheek. “God, you’re so smart. We’re gonna throw a party the day you say Mommy. We won’t throw a party the day you call me Tony, though, because that’s impertinent.” He lifts Morgan off of the float, cradling her in his arms in the water, her legs submerged.

Morgan looks a bit put off at first, her face screwing up as she thinks about crying, but then Tony is sprinkling water on her forehead from his fingertips. She gives him a cautious smile, reaching out to grab at his hand.

“Not so bad, huh? It’s just water, baby, I promise. A little colder than when you have a bath, that’s true. But your bath doesn’t have all this neat stuff, like…” Tony glances over, pointing at Pepper. “Your Mommy in a unicorn float, looking very stylish in her bikini. And that…” Morgan follows his finger, squinting as the sunlight glints off of the water, not quite seeing the fish Tony is pointing at just a few inches away from them. “That’s a fish. They swim, and… Well, I’m not sure what else they do. Swimming is their main objective. What else do fish do, Pep?”

“They taste good,” Pepper supplies, tipping her head back against the float, her eyes closed behind her sunglasses as she relaxes.

“That’s your mother’s opinion. Daddy is of the opinion that fish taste okay, but he could do without them. Fish don’t make any noise, in case you were wondering. I know, I’ve been testing you on the farm animal sounds, but shit gets a lot more complicated the minute we get into different ecosystems. Like alligators, I’m gonna have to look up what sound they make, because even I can’t tell you.”

He glances at Pepper again, teeth grit together in a grimace, he really is running out of coinage to put in the swear jar. _Plus, the swear jar doesn’t seem to be teaching me anything. And Pep has given her own small fortune to it. Maybe we can put the swear jar towards Morgan’s tuition… Though I’ve already set up a college savings account for her… Oh, maybe it can be her fun college money instead… Funds from the swear jar buying booze for some clandestine underage party._ Tony grins, because that’s just the sort of thing he would do when he was in college – Rhodey protesting every time that Tony was too young to drink and would get them all into trouble. Tony had thrown the best parties, and gotten the most drunk. _Now that I think about it, I probably should’ve been more concerned about my drinking then._ But who had given him his first drink? It’s not like Tony had gone to his father’s liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of whiskey when he’d turned twelve. No, Howard Stark had poured that glass for him, Obadiah Stane looking on. _Morgan won’t do that. She won’t be like me… God, please let her be a better person than me._  

He floats with Morgan for a bit in the water, before passing her off to Pepper so that he can climb aboard his own flamingo float. They lie there for an hour or so, passing off the baby between them every so often, Pepper’s hand wrapped around his – keeping his float close to hers, and enjoying the way his fingers fit between hers perfectly. 

Worried about Morgan getting a sunburn, Pepper had hurried off back into the house with their daughter, leaving Tony out on the lake. He floats for a little while longer, fingers trailing in the water, his eyes closed. He’s not thinking of anything particularly distressing in this moment, which is a rare occasion for Tony Stark. He idly wonders if he should cook out on the charcoal grill tonight, if they should have a nice dinner out on the back deck, fireflies glinting in the darkening evening sky.

_Yeah, that’s a good idea_. Tony slips off of his float, dragging it and Pepper’s up to the shore. He unplugs the both of them, watching as they slowly deflate against the pebbles. A glint of red catches his eye amidst the rocks, Tony reaching down without thinking twice to unearth a startlingly red piece of lake glass. _Red like Peter’s suit._ He turns it over in his palm, his face paling as he stares down at it. The glass is smooth, but the depth of the red disturbs him. It reminds him of the blood that had run between his fingers as his own technology was used against him, thrust into his abdomen and through his guts, piercing out of his back in a perverse triumph. Held up to the sun, the red possesses a hint of orange, like the sandy ground of Titan. _Where I let Peter Parker die._ Tony almost drops the glass then, his index finger trembling against its surface, holding the piece loosely between his finger and thumb. _I don’t want this for my collection. I don’t want this in my house. I should let it go._

And yet… And yet… He looks out at the lake, slipping the piece of glass into the pocket of his swimming trunks. _I don’t deserve to let it go._ Letting it go meant forgetting, and Peter had been **sorry** , he’d told him as much. _As if you had anything to apologize for, Pete. I killed you. I should’ve been the one saying sorry. I wish I could say sorry now. God, I’m so sorry._ Tony folds the plastic floats slowly, carrying them back to the garage where they belong, water dripping off of him and darkening the grass beneath him. _I have to fix this. If a day comes that I can fix this, I have to._ The glass weighs heavy in his pocket, and Tony selfishly wishes it could just drag him down into the dirt, where there would be no more pain, no more guilt. _And leave Morgan? And Pepper? I couldn’t. But if the day comes when I can fix this, I’ve got to do it._ Tony’s feet carry him into the house, which is alive with squeals of breathless laughter from Morgan as her mother changes her out of her swimsuit – so alive compared to the darkness invading Tony’s thoughts as he heads up the stairs to see his wife and child, dropping the piece of glass in one of the jars containing countless pieces on the table by the stairs. _I have to fix this, if only so I can tell Peter Parker that I’m sorry in person, instead of saying it to his ghost._

* * *

 

Tony is sat cross-legged on the living room rug, staring intently across from him at Pepper and Morgan. The path between him and his wife is lined with pillows, and Tony is so incredibly focused that were Morgan to even think about falling, he would reach out and catch her before she hit the ground. Their daughter is standing in front of Pepper, looking at her mother with a worried expression. _Daddy is kinda freaking me out, does he blink?_ Tony blinks, and then smiles at the two of them.

“C’mon squirt, I know you can do this. You’ve been threatening to do this for weeks now.” His cellphone rests on his lap, the ringer turned all the way up, so he can answer the moment he gets the call to tell him that their chickens have arrived. “I’ll give you like… ten new pets in at most fifteen minutes if you do this. That’s a cool present, right?”

Pepper is steadying Morgan, holding her hands. “Why don’t you go over and see your Daddy, Morgan? Go on, go to Daddy.”

Tony slaps a hand over his mouth when Morgan takes her first hesitant – but unassisted -- step towards him. He pulls his hand away quickly, Morgan wobbling for a moment, the noise spooking her. “It’s okay, come over here, baby! Daddy was just being silly, come here! I’ve got…” He fishes in his pocket, pulling out a handful of the puffed rice cereal that Morgan is partial to. _I must have put some in here this morning. Don’t remember that at all_.

Morgan toddles over to him, each step more sure than the last, throwing her arms around his neck with a laugh as he hugs her tightly. “You did it, Morgan! God, you can walk now! We’re doomed!” He gives her a few pieces of cereal before straightening her up again.

“Okay, now you go to Mommy. I used to do this all the time, except I’d be walking over to her to tell her what stupid thing I’d just done. She can be very intimidating, but I think you should be safe. Go give her a kiss.”

Morgan walks over to Pepper quickly, her arms outstretched in an effort to keep her balance, and when she arrives in front of Pepper she gives her a very wet kiss to the cheek. “Mama.”

“Yes!” Tony jumps to his feet, pumping his fists. “She said mama! And she walked! We have created a genius!” He scoops up his phone as it starts to ring, thrusting it against his ear. “Hello? Yep, we’re home! Great, I’ll come out and show you where to park in just a sec.”

Tony grins down at his wife and daughter, slipping his phone into his pocket. Today has been a brilliant day, and it’s barely noon. “Our chickens have arrived. See, I promised you pets if you walked. I always keep my promises.” _Well. Not always. But for you, I will._ “C’mon, let’s go get them set up.”

Tony hurries out of the house, Pepper and Morgan following after him more slowly, Pepper matching Morgan’s pace. She lifts her up before they get to the porch, deciding that the change in environment might cause Morgan to fall and she’d be safe to walk once they were out in the yard.

Tony is stood out in the yard, chatting with the chicken deliveryman, Chuck. Chuck also happens to be a local farmer that Tony had gotten in touch with after prowling around the village farmer’s market each month, on the hunt for a decent chicken hatchery. They had almost ordered chicks, but with Morgan growing a little more every day, they both decided that it would be too much responsibility. So, they had ordered 10 adolescent chickens, all of a breed that were comfortable with children.

Morgan watches with wide eyes as the chickens are unloaded from the back of the truck, and placed on the unassuming grass. The chickens cluck, wings flapping, as they become accustomed to their new yard. The largest hen, with black feathers speckled with white, gets a bit confident and starts running away from Tony and Chuck. It squawks as it hits an invisible barrier, gently buffeted back a few paces.

“Yeah, something I created,” Tony is saying to Chuck, his hands on his hips. “I didn’t want to put up a fence or anything, kinda detract from the curb appeal. They can’t see it – hell, I can’t see it – but it doesn’t hurt, or anything. It’s just like running into a very strong puff of air. Goes up to about here.” Tony bends down, leveling his hand with his mid-calf. “As for the coop, it’s pretty nice inside. Makes me wish I was a chicken.”

Tony shakes hands with Chuck – who has always been a nice guy, even though he lost his wife as a result of Thanos, and knows exactly who Tony is.

“Take care of ‘em, Mr. Stark,” Chuck says gruffly. 

Tony nods as he walks the other man back to his truck. “You got it, Mr. Phoenix. How are your apples doing? We want to come over and pick some come fall.”

The farmer gets into the truck, starting the engine. “We should have quite a haul this year, Mr. Stark. Just call ahead, and I’ll set everything up.”

Pepper and Tony wave as the man drives away, disappearing down the forested road that led back to the village. Morgan even raises her hand, mirroring her parents, though she doesn’t quite understand what she’s doing.

“Well, we’re farmers now.” Tony says, turning to face Pepper. “I kinda feel like I need to go throw some overalls on and stick a piece of wheat between my teeth.” 

Pepper laughs, shaking her head. “And shuck some corn?”

“You’re goddamn right, shuck some corn.” Tony sets Morgan down in the grass, holding her hand as she stands beside him on steadier legs than ever. “Hey, Morgie, wanna meet some chickens? They won’t bite. Don’t have teeth. Well… If you count a beak as a very large tooth?”

“No,” Morgan says with a smile, grabbing at his leg.

“No, you don’t want to meet some chickens, or…?” Tony is nonplussed, two new words in one day? He can’t even remember a time where he told Morgan no – so she must have learned it from Pepper who is much better at having a backbone. 

“No!” Morgan is laughing now, even as she’s lifted into the air and into Tony’s arms. 

“I don’t think you know what that means. Do you think she knows what that means, Pep?” Tony steps over the invisible barrier, the chickens instantly flocking away from him with some panicked clucks.

“No,” Morgan and Pepper say in unison, and then Pepper starts laughing – she can’t help it. 

“Well.” Tony feels thoroughly outsmarted, squatting down in the grass so that Morgan can be level with some chickens. “I’m just gonna have to distract you with some chickens so you and your Mom stop teasing me. Here, look.” One chicken is stalking over to them, with what Tony would consider a friendly expression – for a chicken. 

It clucks. Morgan clucks back. Tony laughs, nearly spooking the chicken, but it holds its ground. Morgan reaches out and strokes along its brown feathers slowly.

“What should we name her, Morgan?”

Morgan is thoughtful as she pets the chicken, “Looloolooloo.”

“Okay, you know what, I think we’ll go with Lulu. That rolls off the tongue more than Loo to the fourth power, or whatever…”

Tony sits on the grass and watches as Pepper walks over to where they are and takes Morgan by the hand, guiding her through their invisible chicken pen so that she can get to know each one.

_I wonder what Steve is doing. Does Steve have a family? Has Steve moved on?_ The thought comes from out of nowhere, and Tony breathes in sharply, his hand curling up into a fist at his side. _Why the hell am I even thinking about Steve?_ It’s hard not to, though. Every time he speaks to Natasha, he can tell she’s desperate to talk about Steve. Tony almost feels bad for her, seeing as she’s caught in the middle between the both of them through their estrangement. But then he remembers the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth as Captain America’s shield itself had come crashing down against his reactor. His heart. _It would have been my head. If he hadn’t hesitated, he would’ve killed me. So what if Steve moves on, has a family? Why should I give a damn?_ Well… He grabs a piece of grass, shredding it slowly with his fingers, keeping a smile on his face for Morgan and Pepper. If Steve Rogers had given up, had moved on… Then there really was no solution to this. No way to get everyone back. 

_Of course there’s no way to get everyone back, you idiot. You think you’re smarter than the Infinity Stones? The sum of life as we know it in the form of some shiny rocks?_ Tony had looked in to it, looked in to any possible solution in the realm of feasibility (though what is feasible if magic exists?). He even had FRIDAY searching for any signs that the stones were used again – though Natasha and Nebula had told him countless times that the stones had been destroyed. There was a part of him… Tony grimaces, getting to his feet and letting the shreds of grass fall to the ground. _No matter what life I create here, with Pep and Morgan, there’s always gonna be a part of me that wants to save the world again. You always have to be the hero, don’t you, Stark? Goddamn it._ What can he do, to keep Pepper from figuring this out? She has an uncanny ability to read his mind, and Tony wonders secretly if some aspect of Extremis that he hadn’t been able to wipe away had given her some sort of prescience. _Don’t be stupid, Stark. You’ll just have to hide those thoughts. Fake it. You’ve always been good at that._

“Dada!” Morgan has a white feather in her hand, holding it up for him as he walks over to her – thankfully she hadn’t plucked it off of the many chickens that have now gathered around her.  

“Thank you,” Tony kisses the top of her head, tucking the feather into his pocket with the other bits and pieces he always seems to be carrying – lint covered pieces of cereal, a pacifier, the cap off of a bottle of vodka – his very own AA sobriety chip. Morgan grabs his hand once it emerges from his pocket and squeezes it, and Tony has never felt so loved by another human being in his life. _Can’t keep thinking about this stuff, Stark. **This** is what matters._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads-up, this chapter heavily features tony's alcoholism.

The webbing shoots from the gauntlet with a hiss, making contact with the other side of the garage, and for the first time – it sticks to the opposite wall. Tony nearly drops the phone in his excitement. _I’ve done it._

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Rhodey’s voice is tinny in his ear, and he sounds bewildered – Tony must’ve interrupted him in the middle of his sentence, but in truth, he had stopped listening to Rhodey about one minute and forty seconds ago.

“Nothing, Rhodey, dear. I’m going to put you on speaker, give me a second.” Tony fumbles with his phone, attempting to sound casual – though how is he supposed to sound casual when he’s finally figured out the formula to Peter Parker’s webbing? Well, he thinks he has. None of them have ever stuck to a surface before. His thumb hits the speaker icon, and he throws the phone onto his lap 

“Can you hear me, Rhodey?”

“Loud and clear, Tony. I was saying, though, about Morgan’s birthday party. You never told me when -.”

Tony grasps at the strand with one hand, and then the other. He slowly tugs himself in his desk chair across the garage, thankful that he’d pushed boxes and scrap metal out of his path before testing this most recent formula. “It’s on Friday. I still have to call and invite Nat, Nebula, and Bruce. Pepper was gonna send invites, but I thought that was a little over the top. She’s just turning one. We’ll do invites for her sixteenth or something…” Tony trails off, staring down in wonder at the webbing as the wheels of his chair thud against the wall. _Holy shit, I could swing from this stuff._ Tony would never, though. The thought of swinging from skyscraper to skyscraper above a busy Manhattan was enough to make his stomach turn. He isn’t afraid of heights, that much is obvious with his almost 100 iterations of the Iron Man suit, but he isn’t a big fan of the sensation of his stomach dropping when suddenly falling. He had back up after back up power source in his suit – even flaps – to avoid that sensation. There had been nothing to slow him when he had fallen back to Earth after destroying the Chitauri. No, Spider-Man would die with Peter Parker, Tony wasn’t itching to take up yet another mantle. 

“I can make Friday. I don’t know about Bruce, though – haven’t you heard?”

Tony presses the button on the shooter again, this time to detach the existing strand of webbing so that he can free himself from the wall. “Heard what?” He asks, distracted. Tony gets to his feet, the phone falling from his lap. In an instant, a strand of webbing is stuck to the glass screen of the phone, the device hovering less than an inch above the concrete floor. _Hot damn, that’s cool._  

“I’ll let him tell you,” Rhodey says with a chuckle, completely unaware that he had nearly taken a fatal tumble from Tony’s lap. “You’ll laugh. I sure as hell did. Do you guys have a theme?”

“Uh…” Tony holds the phone against his ear, a grin on his face – the kind of grin that only appears when Tony figures out something that has been on his mind for ages. And this has been on his mind since he met Peter Parker, years ago. “A theme… Oh, yeah, yeah. Dinosaurs and butterflies.”

“…Dinosaurs and butterflies?”

“Yep,” Tony drags his chair back over to where he had been working, this time using his hand instead of the web. “Morgan’s favorite things. Right now, anyways. She finally figured out what to do with that walking dinosaur I got her for Christmas. She races it, now that she can walk. It wins, most of the time. I think she’ll be pulling it along on a leash in a couple of weeks…” Tony’s fingers travel over the fabric of the new suit that he’s been working on idly for the past couple of months. Pepper’s suit is resting below him, in the secret storage unit he’d built for all of the creations that would best be kept a secret from his wife. This suit has its own unit as well, though it’s not a suit for him, or Pepper, or even Morgan.

“I guess I’ll get something that fits in there… Friday, huh… Is it BYOB?”

Tony laughs incredulously, “When have I ever thrown a party that’s BYOB? Get outta here. I’ll see you then, bud, I gotta go.”

“Diaper change?”

Tony unhooks the web shooter gauntlet from his wrist with his free hand, the phone sandwiched against his shoulder and ear. “Something like that. Dinosaurs and butterflies, don’t forget.”

“Dinosaurs and butterflies,” Rhodey repeats solemnly, and ends the call.

This time, Tony allows the phone to fall, the clatter of it against the metal of the worktable sounding distant. He gently dislodges the small glass circle from inside of the web shooter, a wisp of smoke clouding before his eyes for a moment before it fades into the air. _Neat practical effect. Peter would like that._ He slots the disk containing the web solution back where it belongs in the sleeve of the new suit Tony had created.

His hands rest on his hips, looking down at it. _Not bad, Stark._ The Iron Spider suit had been a brilliant creation, one of his best – but it was his style, more than Peter’s. At least, he thought so – he’d never been able to get Peter’s opinion on it, aside from it smelling like a new car. The memory makes Tony smile slightly, picking up the suit by the shoulders. This was definitely more Peter’s style – he’d reverted back to the bright red, but had swapped out the blue for a navy that was so dark that it was almost black. Never mind the fact that Peter Parker is dead, and will never see this suit. _Never mind that._ Pepper would tell him that this is unhealthy, if she knew. But she doesn’t, and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. _And what if we did somehow get them all back? Get Peter back? I don’t want him to think that I forgot about him. So here, kid, here’s a new suit I made you._

And if that new suit never sees the light of day? Tony shakes his head, his jaw set. _He’ll see it. Someday._  

“FRIDAY, Spider storage please.” To his right, a storage unit rises up out of the ground, this time without an impressive smoke effect. Tony places the new Spider-Man suit on the waiting mannequin, stepping back to admire it. _He could be better than me. Better than all of us. If he’d just been given a little more time…_

“Alright, FRIDAY. Lock it up.” He turns his back on the suit, not wanting to watch it as it is lowered back down into the floor of the garage. “You’ve made a note of the formula I used?” 

“Yes, boss. I’ve saved it to your private server.”

“Great. Great…” Tony wanders back over to his chair, glancing over to the section of the floor that vexes him the most. Beneath a foot of concrete lies Captain America’s shield. Steve hadn’t asked for it back, and Tony sure as hell isn’t going to call him and ask him if he wants it. _He’s retired, anyways._

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath, flipping his phone over and seeing the crack across the screen. He opens his contact list, collapsing back into the chair as he presses on the phone icon next to Bruce Banner’s name.

It rings for much longer than Tony had counted on, and he’s about to hang up, wanting to avoid leaving Bruce an awkward voicemail. _I hate voicemails. Hey, green Bruce, come to my kid’s birthday party._

“Hello, Tony?” There’s a roaring noise that almost drowns out Bruce’s voice, and Bruce is shouting into the receiver to begin with. _Holy shit… Is that, like… A crowd? Is he at a concert?_

“Hey, Bruce, is this a good time? It’ll just take a second.”

“Uh, sure, Tony, go ahead -. Hang on, kid, I’ll sign it in a minute.” 

_Sign it… What the fuck?_ “Sign what, Banner?”

“Oh…” Bruce sounds a little embarrassed, and once again Tony wonders if he’s blushing red or green. “I guess I didn’t mention it. I kind of thought Nat would tell everyone… I’m, uh… On tour.” 

Tony snorts, Bruce wasn’t one for jokes – but when he made them, damn, they were good. “Great. The Hulk on Tour. You might actually want to consider that, Bruce, I’m sure people would love to watch you smash shit.”

There’s a pause, and Tony’s mouth drops open. _He’s serious. He’s on tour. What the fuck sort of person buys a ticket to see the Hulk on tour?_ Perhaps he’s being uncharitable, and a little green with envy – no one was lining up to see Tony Stark on tour. _I’d probably get eggs thrown at me. Or shot._

“Yeah, I’m kind of at a meet and greet right now… Signing posters, so I’ve got to go -.”

“Wait,” Tony has to ask him, otherwise Pepper will chew him out about it. “You free on Friday? Morgan’s first birthday is this Friday, and we’re throwing a little bit of a party…”

“Friday – let me ask my assistant.” Tony could almost cry. The Hulk with an assistant. _I didn’t think this world could get any more incomprehensibly fucked up. I was wrong._ “Yeah, sorry Tony. I’m gonna be in LA on Friday. We sold out the Staples Center this time.”

“What – what are you going to do for an arena full of people?” Yes, now he’s definitely being uncharitable.

“Oh, I talk about, you know… My time in the Avengers, and everything.” Bruce says that very quickly, and doesn’t give Tony a reason to cut in, hearing him spluttering on the other end. “Look, Tony, gotta go. Sorry about the party.”

Tony pulls the phone away from his ear as the dial tone beeps. _Bruce Banner just hung up on me. Bruce Banner is… a celebrity._

He presses a hand over his mouth, preemptively muffling any sound that might escape him. He’s not sure whether he’s going to laugh or scream. _How the hell is Bruce Banner going on tour when Peter Parker is dead? When half of the world is dead? When half of the fucking universe is dead? Who the hell would go see Bruce Banner on tour?_  

A laugh vibrates against his fingers, a terrible sounding laugh that sounds crazed. _Because it is crazy. This is fucking crazy._ His hand falls away, and Tony is soon hunched over on his chair, laughing until he’s breathless and tears are streaming down his face. _Bruce Banner is going on tour and I have a one year old daughter. People are paying money to see the Hulk stand on stage. The Hulk on Tour_.

* * *

 

“Tony…” Pepper sounds uncertain, and she’s hovering at his elbow, reaching a hand out cautiously.

“You’re crowding me,” he warns her, carefully attaching the fondant head of the tyrannosaurus rex to its fondant body. The creation of Morgan’s birthday cake has taken longer than both of them would like to admit – they’d been up half the night the night before, and now the clock is ticking, the first guest could arrive at any moment. “This fucking head.” Tony holds his breath as he slowly impales the head on the toothpick sticking abruptly out of the dinosaur’s body. He pulls his hand away slowly, stepping back from the counter as if his proximity is threatening enough to cause the head to fall to the icing below, as it had done countless times in the past twenty four hours. 

“Wait,” Pepper whispers, her hand grasping at his forearm, her fingers stained with food coloring – red, green, blue – a real mess, but the tyrannosaurus rex fondant figure is as faithful to the descriptions made by paleontologists as possible. “Oh my god, Tony. I think it’s going to…” She starts to laugh giddily, pressing her face against his shoulder. “I think this one is going to work.”

“Why couldn’t we just have ordered a cake from the bakery?” Tony asks her, apparently the only question he’s capable of asking Pepper Potts, if the past day had proven anything. “Though… It’s a pretty kick-ass cake.”

Complete with sugar work, flying fondant pterodactyls, a chocolate ganache that Tony had licked the bowl clean of until he was nauseous – it is some of their finest work together as a team.

“Because, Tony – if we went to a bakery, no one would have cried about a fondant tyrannosaurus rex.”

“I was very tired,” Tony replies sulkily, moving over to the sink so that he can wash his hands, though he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get the food coloring out of his skin no matter how hard he scrubs or how hot the water is. 

“Bet it’s Nat,” Pepper says with a grin, kissing his cheek as the doorbell rings. She slips out of the kitchen to greet the first guest, Tony shooting a pleading look at the cake.

“Just don’t fall apart while we’re gone, please…” _Crying over a cake. Not my finest hour._ Morgan squeals in delight from the living room as Pepper and Natasha come into her line of sight.

“No!” Morgan exclaims, a triangular paper birthday hat on her head, affixed with an elastic band under her chin. The hat is, of course, decorated with various dinosaurs.

“We can pretend that’s her learning how to say Nat. It’s either Mama, Dada, or no.” Tony smiles at Natasha, though his smile fades when she turns to face him. There’s a healing cut on her cheek, and a painful looking bruise shadows her left eye. She’s been in worse shape, he knows that, but it still makes him grimace.

Natasha’s expression softens, and she walks over to him to give him a very brief hug. Brief as it may be, it still stuns Tony. _Is she okay?_

“All part of the job, Tony,” she replies, reading his mind as she gestures to the black eye. “You should have seen the other guy,” Nat nudges him with a smirk, and then looks up at his unadorned head. “Where’s your hat?” 

“Uh – where’s _your_ hat?” Is Tony’s attempt at a snappy retort, not his best, but better than nothing. He loops his arm through Natasha’s, leading her over to the table where a couple of hats are waiting. “Here.” 

He’d like to see anyone else place a birthday hat on Natasha Romanoff’s head, going for dinosaurs so that she matches Morgan. “There, now you’re properly fitted for what I imagine is going to be a… incredible party. One for the books.” 

Tony grabs his own hat, going for butterflies to spice it up. He sets another butterfly hat aside for Rhodey. “Do you think Nebula will want butterflies or dinosaurs…?”

“Dinosaurs,” Nebula intones from the doorway, making both Natasha and Tony jump, his hand rising to his chest.

“Jesus Christ,” Tony exclaims, massaging over his heart. “How the hell did you even get inside?”

“I opened the door. It was unlocked. Stark, you’re hopeless, I expect to scare you every time. Natasha, though… You call yourself a spy?” 

Natasha does look a bit embarrassed, “I’m off duty…” 

Nebula hums, reaching out to pluck the dinosaur hat that Tony is offering her out of his hands. “I got a ride with Rhodey. He’s outside, he said that he wanted to catch up with his favorite chicken.” 

“Oh, Tony Jr.?” Tony asks brightly, “She is a pretty great -.”

“Tony Jr. is the weakest of your flock, Stark,” Nebula says simply, but not unkindly. “I believe he said that his favorite was Cheeto.”

“It is Cheeto,” Rhodey calls from the front door. “Though Lulu is a close second. Is this everyone, Tones?” 

Morgan walks into the living room, holding on to Pepper’s hand, grinning at all of her guests. “No!” 

“Yeah, actually, it is everyone,” Pepper says with a smile, hugging Rhodey with her free arm. “Glad you could make it, Jim.”

“Unless you’re friends with some other one year olds, Rhodey, this is the entire guest list.” Tony tosses him the hat, and Rhodey sighs, but is a good sport and puts it on. “Come into the kitchen, I wanna show you the cake.”

“Can I get anyone something to drink?” Pepper is asking as Rhodey follows Tony into the kitchen to look at his masterpiece. “We have some sangria.”

Sangria isn’t Tony’s drink of choice, but at this point in his sobriety, he would take anything with the faintest hint of an alcohol content. His hand slips into his pocket, fingers running over the vodka bottle cap, the metal worn from the continuous manhandling. It’s his daughter’s first birthday, and the thing he wants most in the world is a drink. _I’m pathetic._ His thoughts are dripping with self-hatred, even as he chats animatedly with Rhodey, detailing the intricate steps he and Pepper had taken to construct the cake. _I’m no better than my father. No matter how hard I try. God, Morgan. I’m sorry you got stuck with me._

* * *

 

Time seems to fly after Morgan turns one. She finds her voice quickly, expanding her vocabulary in both English and Italian – and she finally figures out the appropriate time to use the word ‘no’. When Tony isn’t out in the garden harvesting their rather impressive amount of various vegetables, or in the garage tinkering on some secret project, he’s accompanying Pepper and Morgan down to the village so their daughter can play with children her own age. 

Morgan is a well-behaved kid, and is so incredibly clever that it takes Tony’s breath away. He wonders if this is how his father felt, but then figures that his father felt jealousy if anything at all when he looked at his son. Looking at Morgan, Tony feels immense love, and pride. She’s his future, and it’s looking to be a damn good one.

When Morgan turns 18 months old, her molars start to grow in. Teething as of now has been a beast that Tony and Pepper have managed to keep under control. Molars, though, are a different sort of beast – one that is apparently impossible to domesticate. Tony returns home from the grocery store, forearms aching from the handles of the reusable shopping bags that he’s laden himself down with. _I’m only ever gonna make one trip._ He’d made a quick stop in the garage before gathering all of the shopping bags together, to tuck away a tiny, airplane-appropriate sized bottle of vodka into the storage unit where Pepper’s suit is being held. He hates himself for buying it, he’s over two years sober, but… _It’s just a last resort. Just so I have something, in case there’s an emergency._ That almost sounded believable, until the annoying, know-it-all voice had piped up in the back of his mind. _If it’s just a last case resort, why are you hiding it from Pepper? Because she’d be ashamed of you, that’s why. Pathetic._

Tony scowls, suppressing that voice to the best of his ability as he shoulders open the front door of their lake house. He grimaces when he hears Morgan crying from upstairs, Pepper’s voice soft as she attempts to soothe her.

“It’s alright, honey,” Pepper comes down the stairs, holding Morgan in her arms, their daughter positively wailing.

“I had an idea,” Tony says loudly, Pepper moving closer to him as he starts to unpack their groceries. “I got juice pops. I know, I know. High sugar content… But it’s gotta be something, right? Something that’s at least gonna distract her. And I feel like the cold’ll help.” 

Morgan looks at him tearfully, wiping at her damp cheeks with her hand, Tony reaching out to brush some brown curls off of her sweaty forehead. “Daddy… Ouchie…” She sniffles, and Tony’s heart breaks.

“I know it hurts, baby. Teething’s a bitch.” He rips open the box of popsicles, Pepper sets Morgan down on the counter so that she can sit, dampening a piece of paper towel to wipe gently over their daughter’s heated face. “Let’s avoid the strawberry flavor,” he mutters to himself, finding an orange popsicle.

“Yes, please,” Pepper sounds exhausted as she wipes away Morgan’s tears. “The last thing we need is an allergic reaction.”

“Here,” Tony offers Morgan the popsicle, holding it in front of her mouth. “It’s gonna be cold, but it’ll feel better. I promise.”

Morgan cautiously takes a lick of the popsicle, and then her eyes light up, her pain forgotten. _Ha. Solved it._ “Yummy!” Her mouth is soon stained orange, and Tony has juice running down his hand and wrist, but at least she’s not crying anymore. 

“We might have to buy stock in juice pops, hon,” he tells Pepper, who sighs in relief, resting her head against his shoulder. She’d been up all night with Morgan, and Tony had been too by association, because Morgan had ended up wedged between them in bed around 2:30 in the morning. “Why don’t you take a nap, Pep? I think I can handle it for a few hours.” 

“Are you sure?” Tony smiles when Pepper asks him that. _She takes such good care of me._

“Yeah, I’m sure. You’re dead on your feet. I bought four boxes of these things, so we should be set for at least 24 hours.” Tony lifts Morgan off of the counter so that she can stand beside him while he unloads the groceries.

Pepper presses a grateful kiss against his cheek before leaving the kitchen, headed straight for bed. In his mind, the small bottle of vodka flashes like a lit up billboard. _I don’t deserve her._

“Hey, pumpkin, can you put this in the pantry?” Tony hands Morgan a box of her favorite cereal, and he watches her toddle over to the pantry and pull open the door. Luckily, the shelf containing Morgan’s favorite foods is within her reach, and she places the box in its rightful place without having to be directed.

“Alright, Morgan, let’s go watch some cartoons. Wanna watch Frozen or Tangled?”

Morgan grabs his hand, his other hand holding a box of juice pops, and she leads him slowly over to the couch. He settles down on it, setting the cardboard box on the coffee table, scooping Morgan up into his arms next and placing her on the couch beside him.

Morgan nuzzles into his side, her thumb in her mouth, and says something that sounds vaguely like Frozen – and while Tony had secretly been rooting for Tangled, he obeys. 

“Here, trade you.” Tony has her replace her thumb with yet another popsicle, Morgan eating it happily as the movie begins.

That tiny bottle of vodka flits to the forefront of his mind again; he could almost reach out and grab it – if only he hadn’t hidden it in his workshop. _Liar, liar, liar._

* * *

 

The bottle remains hidden for almost a year, gathering dust beneath the concrete floor of their garage. He looks at it every time he withdraws Pepper’s suit from its storage unit, sometimes he even reaches out and holds it in his hands. _Not now. This isn’t the right time._ While it’s not exactly the truth that he wants to hear, it nevertheless is the truth – so the bottle returns to the floor of the unit, and he gets on with his work.

Pepper has long since gone to bed, and Tony had originally gone up there with her. They hadn’t discussed the significance of the day, an infamous anniversary of an event better forgotten. _How can I forget it, though, when I wake up in the middle of the night screaming? How can I forget it when May Parker won’t even take my calls any more? My fault, she said. She’s right._ He had lain on the bed beside Pepper, feeling his chest slowly constrict, until he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. He was hot, sweat soaking into the sheets beneath him, his hands trembling against his chest where he had rested them. Pepper was completely unaware, sleeping peacefully, her arm draped over his abdomen. _I have to go._ So, Tony had carefully climbed out of bed, and had hurried out of their bedroom without a backwards glance.

Now, he sits on the couch, his hands dangling loosely between his thighs, brown eyes fixed on the television screen. It’s an all day affair, the anniversary of the decimation, and news coverage goes late into the night. They’re still showing interviews, even now, as the clock ticks closer and closer to the beginning of a new day. _They’ll still talk about it tomorrow, though. It’s all they fucking talk about._

The news reporter’s voice is familiar, as she stands beside a haggard looking middle-aged man. The man stares into the camera with tired eyes, a crumpled tissue in his hand, almost out of frame.

“Would you feel comfortable sharing your loss with us, Mr. Thompson?”

It clicks, immediately, Tony’s hands clenching into fists so tightly that his blunt fingernails begin to cut into the skin of his palms. The reporter’s voice. _“… A child’s simple question: where are my mother and father?”_

“My daughter was three years old. Alice. She was three.” The man speaks haltingly, each word a struggle, his grief almost choking him. “We were… we were walking back from the park – it had been… She just wanted to go to the park… And then – she was gone. I was holding her hand, and then I was holding nothing. Nothing.” Something lights up the man’s eyes – not life, but rage. “And where were the Avengers? Where were the Avengers when my daughter died? Where’s Tony Stark now? What gives him the right to just disappear?!”

“Mr. Thompson,” the reporter tries to cut in, but there’s no use. The man is furious. He pulls out a wrinkled photograph from his pocket, thrusting it at the camera, until it takes up the entire frame. A young girl stands, smiling happily, a worn stuffed rabbit clutched in her arms.

“Her name was Alice! She was three...” The man’s voice, taut with rage and sadness, melded together so perfectly that it makes Tony nauseous – Tony, who can’t look away from the girl’s smiling face. “We were just going to the park -.”

“Turn it off,” Tony chokes out, clutching at his chest, staggering away from the living room. His heart pounds, stabbing pains radiating from his chest all the way to the roots of his teeth. The screen goes dark behind him, and if FRIDAY was J.A.R.V.I.S., she would say something – but she’s silent.

_I’m having a heart attack. Fuck, I’m dying._ Tony gags, his stomach roiling as he walks headfirst into the front door. Everything is blurry as he tumbles down the steps of the porch into the cold. He drags himself across the gravel of the driveway on his hands and knees, one fingernail tearing – but the pain is nothing compared to what he feels in his chest. _I have to be dying._ His hand leaves a bright red smear of blood on the door to the garage.

_If there ever was an emergency, it’s happening right now._ “Rescue,” he gasps, stumbling over to where Pepper’s suit rests below the ground. He’ll call it whatever she wants to call it, once he gives it to her – but he had christened it Rescue, thinking of all the times that Pepper Potts had saved him. Rescued him. The suit rises up out of the floor, but Tony falls to his knees in front of it, his eyes fixed on the bottle at its feet. The suit lowers back into the ground, FRIDAY perhaps understanding his true intentions, which calms him. If he _were_ dying, she would say something to him, wouldn’t she? _Surely she’s running vital scans right now._

Tony hauls himself up to his feet, his arms scrabbling against the beaten metal surface of a workbench. He twists off the cap, throwing it aside, not hearing it as it clatters against the wall. He downs the bottle in one gulp, his eyes closed, tears welling up at the burn he’s not felt in years. _Why did I ever stop drinking?_ And then, he thinks of his father – Howard, roaring at Maria, stumbling over to her with his fist raised, his mother’s back hitting the wall. Tony, standing at the foot of the stairs, five years old and full of courage. He had launched himself at his drunken father, screaming at him to leave Mamma alone.

Tony stares at the small bottle in his hand, revulsion welling up in him. He slams his hand down against the workbench, the bottle shattering upon impact, shards of glass lacerating his palm, his fingers. He feels… _I don’t feel anything._

That terrifies him more than anything. Tony stands from the workbench, leaving a trail of blood on the concrete floor as he hurries over to the stainless steel sink affixed to the wall. His left hand, pristine compared to his mangled right hand, rises to his mouth, fingers plunging down his throat. He gags around his fingers, tears streaming down his cheeks, and just manages to pull his hand away before he vomits into the sink. First the vodka, then his dinner. He heaves again when he sees what’s left of the homemade pizzas Pepper had whipped up that night – anything nice to distract them from the day.

Tony sinks to his knees in front of the sink, his injured hand finally roaring to life with pain. He presses his forehead against the cool metal, reaching up with his left hand to wipe the bile from his lips.

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice is soft, frightened. She had woken with a start when the front door had slammed against the wall, and had sleepily climbed down the stairs to see what was going on. She had almost shut the door and gone back to bed, but then her eyes had caught sight of something red glimmering on the brightly lit door of the garage. Blood. And now she’s here, staring at her husband’s shuddering, kneeling form.

“Pepper.” Tony knocks his head against the sink, only once – because she’d stop him if he really started going at it like he wants to. “Just – go back into the house, Pepper. I’m fine.” _Fuck, why does my voice sound like that?_

“Christ, Tony,” Pepper inhales sharply. “Your hand!” She makes her way towards him, first wanting to put pressure on the wound, and then wanting to call an ambulance.

“No hospitals.” Tony’s voice, hoarse and broken, is firm on that. “No hospitals, Pepper. It was just… Just…” 

She doesn’t push him, not right now – instead she turns and hurries over to the first aid kit. They keep it well stocked, Tony has always been accident-prone. If you call flying around in a metal suit and being shot at by heavy artillery accident-prone.

Tony doesn’t look at her when she sits beside him, can’t look at her. He simply extends his right hand, which he hasn’t even given a proper once over. There’s definitely a shard of glass sticking out of the muscles at the base of his thumb, he can feel it shift when he moves his hand over to her.

“Tony…” Pepper wrings her hands slightly, placing his hand on her lap, his blood soaking into the fabric of her pajama pants. “You probably need stitches, Tony…”

“You can do stitches,” he tells her, not encouraging her, just stating a fact. How many times has he sat beside her, wincing as a needle prods through his skin, or while she gently rubs a salve into his bruises? Sets his broken bones? Presses his dislocated shoulder back into place? Plunged her hand into his chest up to her elbow and fixed his reactor? _And this is how I repay her. Her, and Morgan. She’s ashamed of me, I just know it._

Pepper doesn’t argue, she’s past the point of arguing with him tonight. She can smell the vodka on his breath, mixed with the scent of vomit. She doesn’t think he’s drunk himself into a stupor – if he has, he’s taken care of the evidence with clarity of mind that she doesn’t attribute to a drunk Tony Stark. She tweezes the shard of glass out of his hand, biting her bottom lip in sympathy as he groans in pain. That’s the worst part of it, she thinks, as she cleans each cut and prepares the needle and thread.

“I’m sorry,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You’ve been slipping away,” she replies, holding his wrist steady, his fingers twitching against her thigh as the needle presses into his torn flesh. She’s not just talking about how he’s been slipping off to the workshop more and more often, darting out of Morgan’s bedroom the minute her bedtime story is over.   

“I…” He almost denies it, but there’s no use – his body had tensed in response to the accusation, an expression of guilt. “Yes, I know I have. I’ve been slipping away from you both. Back to…” He shrugs, finally pulling his gaze away from the stainless steel of the sink to look down at his hand on her lap. The sight of the needle and thread makes his stomach turn, and he blanches as another wave of nausea rolls over him… and then – _Thank God_ – it passes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Pepper asks him, tying off the final stitch, frowning down at her work. It’s not the neatest stitch she’s ever done, and he’ll likely have a scar – but what difference does it make? Tony’s body is a canvas of scars.

“I don’t think I can be the man that you want me to be.”

“I’ve not asked you to be any sort of man, Tony. I just want you.” She sets the needle and thread aside, picking up the roll of gauze. She pauses, running her fingertip over his index finger slowly, gently. _Lovingly. How can she still love me_?

“You don’t want me. God, Pepper, you don’t want me. I don’t want me.” 

Pepper looks up at him, just managing to catch his eye before he can look away. She’d caught him off guard, looking up at him so suddenly. “But I do, Tony. I do. And you’re such a good dad. I’m not just saying that. I know you struggle to believe me when I say that.” 

Even if she hadn’t known before, she sure as hell knows now. She carefully wraps up his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it once her work is done. Pepper gets to her feet, running water down the sink for a long while, walking around the workshop as his vomit is flushed away, picking up shards of glass, wiping up droplets of his blood… Tony watches her disbelievingly, shaking his head slowly. _What is it going to take for her to walk away? To give up._ He doesn’t want to find out.

“I wanted a drink.” He grits out, a terrible admission.

“I know that, Tony.” Pepper is back at his side, reaching down to help him to his feet. Once he’s standing, a little woozy, but standing – she hugs him tightly, despite the vomit and the blood. “You’re an alcoholic. You always want a drink… But you’re not doing yourself a favor keeping secrets.”

Tony flushes, thinking of the Rescue suit in the floor beneath them. _That’s not a bad secret, though, right?_ “I know.” He murmurs, breathing in the faded scent of her perfume and closing his eyes. “I know… I…” The picture of the little girl. Alice. “I killed a three year old girl.”

“No, you didn’t. You did not kill anyone, Tony.” Pepper’s voice is fierce, her hands cupping his face, holding his head still – forcing him to look at her. “You did **not** kill anyone, Tony. And you threw up the booze. That tells me exactly the sort of man you are. You wanted to drink, and you did, but then you threw it up. You didn’t let yourself. You haven’t killed anyone.” At least, anyone who didn’t deserve it, but that goes unsaid. “Let alone a three year old girl. There’s a two year old girl, sleeping in her bed back in our house, and she loves you with her whole entire heart. Everything she’s got, Tony. Morgan loves you.” Pepper kisses him softly, holding him to her. “God, Tony, I love you so much. You scare the shit out of me sometimes, but…” Pepper pulls away, taking his good hand in hers so that she can lead him out of the workshop. “But I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Tony replies quietly, following after her, his eyes fixed on his feet. His hand throbs. 

“Mommy?” Both of them are startled by the little voice at the top of the stairs. Morgan is a dark little shadow, her duvet tugged around her shoulders like a cape, her stuffed elephant hanging at her side. 

“Time for bed, sweetheart,” Pepper starts to coax her back towards her bedroom, but Morgan refuses to move without her father, looking over her shoulder at him. Tony can’t even force a smile. 

“Daddy?”

“I’m here, sweetpea.” He shuffles over to her, reaching out to rest his hand on her shoulder. “Mommy’s right, it’s way past your bedtime. C’mon, I’ll put you to bed.”

“Daddy… sei ferito,” Morgan’s fingers gently brush over the bulky gauze covering the hand that rests on her shoulder.

_Yes, I am hurt._ He kneels down in front of her, wrapping her in a tight hug. Morgan hugs him back with as much force as she can muster. 

“Non preoccuparti, sweetheart. I promise. Let’s go to bed.” He lifts her up with a small groan of effort, thanking God that Morgan’s bedroom is right next-door.

He navigates it by the tiger nightlight plugged in beside her bed, setting her down carefully on her recently purchased big kid bed. Tony gently unwraps her from her duvet so that he can tuck her in with it. Before he can pull away his injured hand, she’s carefully holding it. 

“Morgan kisses Daddy better?” 

Tony smiles, feeling emotion well up in him. _God, if I’m not careful, I’m going to start crying._ “That would be very nice, baby.”

Morgan leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the back of his hand, looking up at him expectantly when she’s finished. “Better?”

“All better.” Tony gently presses her back against the mattress, getting to his feet. He leans over her, kissing her forehead, his eyes closing for a moment. “Ti amo, Morgan.” 

“Ti amo, Papà…” Morgan’s voice is sleepy, her brown eyes already drifting shut when Tony pulls away.

He lingers by the door to her room, watching her sleep. Pepper presses a soft kiss to the nape of his neck.

“Sweet dreams, Morgan.” _I promise I’ll be a better father tomorrow._


	11. Chapter 11

Pepper carefully pours fresh coffee into the mug that says WORLD’S GREATEST DAD in rainbow letters, moving it to the tray that she plans on carrying up to their bedroom. Tony always gets flustered when she makes a big deal out of Father’s Day, but she gets just as flustered when he goes all out for Mother’s Day, so Pepper feels the need to get him back in kind every year.

“Morgan, did you get the flowers, baby?” Morgan is three, sure on her feet, and views tasks such as plucking a few sunflowers from the garden as increasingly simple. Tony had already begun to teach her the very basics of circuitry – utilizing a few potatoes to illuminate a light bulb, and Morgan had been enchanted. But Morgan also loves to draw, muck about in the garden, and cook. Tony often says that he doesn’t care what she ends up doing as an adult, she doesn’t need to follow in his footsteps to MIT if she doesn’t want to – she’ll be brilliant at whatever she sets her mind to. In this case, Morgan has plucked some very vibrant sunflowers from the garden, and hands them to her mother with a sweet smile.

“Can I go wake Daddy up now?” She’s been asking the same question ever since Pepper had coaxed her out of bed and down to the kitchen to help.

“Daddy’s awake,” an unfamiliar voice sounds from behind them, thick and stuffy – the voice of someone miserably sick. Pepper turns, moving to hide the flowers behind her back, her eyes wide when she takes in the state of her husband.

Tony is leaning against the granite countertop for support, their king sized duvet draped around him. His greying hair is stuck up in all different directions, his brown eyes shadowed with exhaustion, and there’s color high in his cheeks. 

“Tony, you look terrible!” 

“Happy Father’s Day,” he intones sardonically, reaching out for a piece of paper towel, which he uses to mop up the mucus running from his nose. The first pass of the towel doesn’t seem to help at all, so he ends up just holding the paper towel to his nose permanently.

“Oh, Tony,” Pepper moves over to him, guiding him to sit on one of the stools they kept at the breakfast counter. The back of her hand presses to his forehead and she inhales between her teeth. “Baby, you’re burning up.”

“I feel like it.” Tony looks at her with the most pathetic expression he can muster. “I think I’ve got…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, not wanting to give Pepper the satisfaction. _Come on, Tony, it’ll just be a little pinch and then it’ll be over. Morgan’s doing it, and she’s three! You’re forty-five, you can handle a little pinch._

“The flu,” Pepper says with a sigh while she picks up the duvet to keep it from dragging across the pristine kitchen floor, folding the end of it up onto his lap in a bundle. “If you’d just come with me and Morgan to get the flu shot last week, you’d be fine.”

“You’re sick, Daddy?” Morgan stares at him like he’s an exhibit in a zoo. _The jellyfish exhibit. I feel like a jellyfish. No bones about it. Ha. No bones…_

“Just a little cold, baby,” Tony manages, letting out a deafening sneeze, the piece of paper towel launching from his nose to the floor at high speed.

Pepper makes a noise of disagreement, leaning up and opening the cabinets over the stove so that she can get out their various medical supplies. She hands Morgan the thermometer, their daughter wielding it like a sword above her head. “Would you take Daddy’s temperature, please, Morgie?”

Tony is shivering under the duvet, his entire body aching, down to his toes – but he has enough energy to play along with their daughter when she comes marching over to him with a very serious expression. _Not to be crossed._  

“Yes, Dr. Stark?” He leans down, knowing what’s coming.

“You gotta open up, Daddy.” The end of the thermometer is shoved against his lips before he can part them, and Tony winces as Morgan jabs the thermometer under his tongue. “No talking,” she reminds him as she turns it on.

Tony obeys, miming zipping his lips and throwing away the key. Pepper is already pouring out some foul orange substance for him to take, and he eyes the little shot glass of medicine with disgust.

Morgan holds his hand, displaying her excellent bedside manner. She even strokes her fingers over the bruised backs of his knuckles, attempting to comfort him. He’d trapped his hand a few days ago in between panels of the Rescue suit, letting out every curse word he knew as he cradled his injured hand to his chest. _I’d trust a three-year-old doctor. As long as she was my whizz-kid, of course. As long as she doesn’t become a proctologist._

He winces as the thermometer beeps rapidly, warning them all to his high temperature. Morgan pulls it out of his mouth, inspecting the screen, which is lit up bright red. 

“Red lightsaber, Daddy,” Morgan tells him regretfully, handing the thermometer to Pepper when she reaches out for it. “It means you’re sick,” she explains to him. He and Pepper had begun to refer to the screen of the thermometer as a lightsaber when Morgan was around two and a half, their daughter did enjoy A New Hope, even though she would bury her face against Tony’s chest whenever Darth Vader was on screen. So, a red screen indicating a fever became a red lightsaber, and a green screen indicating a normal temperature became a green lightsaber.

“Yikes, Tony. Off to bed with you.” Pepper washes off the thermometer, gesturing to the medicine for him to take.

Tony downs it with an exaggerated gag, Morgan patting him on the knee. 

“It’s yucky,” she tells him, “But it’ll make you feel all better.”

“How bad was it, boss?” Tony asks as he heaves himself off of the stool, the walk to their bedroom seems like miles from where he’s standing.

“Nearly 103. This isn’t what Morgan and I planned for Father’s Day.” She wraps an arm around his waist, guiding him over to the stairs.

“Me either,” Tony sniffles. “I was looking forward to that breakfast.”

“When you’re better,” Pepper promises with a quick kiss to his burning cheek. “Miss Morgan, would you take Daddy up to our room and make sure he gets into bed?”

Morgan’s eyes widen at the immense responsibility, but then she nods, her expression growing solemn. “Yes, Mommy.” She takes him by the hand, squeezing it gently, and begins to pull him up the stairs.

For once, Tony is slower than Morgan as they ascend the stairs, wheezing slightly once they get to the top step.

“You’re almost there, Daddy,” she encourages him, guiding him to their bedroom door, her hands at the small of his back as she pushes him forward. 

Tony does his best not to stumble, though there’s a three-year-old powerhouse at his back propelling him forward with every bit of strength she’s got. He finally makes it to the bed, collapsing on top of it facedown. Morgan tsks, gathering up the duvet where it hangs off of him and onto the floor.

“It’s okay, Daddy.” She leans in to kiss his forehead, tucking him into bed. “You’re gonna be all better.” 

“I believe you,” Tony mumbles, feeling a little overheated as Morgan covers him with a seemingly endless amount of blankets. _I’ll kick them off once she leaves. She’ll just put them back on me if I take them off now…_

Her hand strokes over his forehead, pushing his damp hair away from his skin. “You’re all sweaty,” she frowns. “Do you want a juice pop?” 

“No, baby, I’m fine. I’m just gonna…” It’s no use; Morgan has already sprinted out of their bedroom, headed for the kitchen.

Tony shivers under the duvet, miserable, but in a weird way, happy. _It’s nice to be taken care of_. After years of forcing everyone away from him, hiding behind an impenetrable façade, he doesn’t feel embarrassed to be a little weak today. _It’s not weak, anyways. I’ve got the flu._  

“Here, Daddy.” Tony turns his head when he hears the wrapper crinkle, squinting against the sheets and watching as Morgan wrests the popsicle from its wrapping. _Ugh, grape._  

“Open up.” She at least takes the time to tell him that, unlike with the thermometer, as she shoves the juice pop into his mouth. Tony shifts under the duvet so that he’s lying on his back, mindful of getting drips on the sheets, Pepper would kill him.

Morgan climbs up onto the bed, sitting beside his head, watching him very intently with dark brown eyes. _I feel like I’m being fed this juice pop against my will. She won’t leave til I finish it._ The last thing Tony wants is a juice pop, especially his least favorite flavor, but he chokes it down.

“All better,” Morgan says brightly as she takes the colored popsicle stick from his mouth. “I told you.”

“Morgan,” Pepper calls from downstairs. “Come down here, baby, you need to let Daddy rest.”

Morgan frowns, not wanting to leave him. She leans down and kisses him on the forehead again, very gently.

“Love you, Daddy,” Morgan calls over her shoulder as she clambers off their bed and wanders out of their bedroom.

“Love you too, honey,” Tony calls back, using his last bit of energy. Once he’s sure that Morgan is gone, he kicks off the pile of blankets, buries his head under the pillows, and falls asleep. He feels awful, but he’s loved.

* * *

 

“Son of a bitch,” Tony mutters to himself, walking around Rescue where he has it fully articulated on the table. “I think it’s finished.” It has only taken him over three years to put together the suit for his wife, his slow pace due in part to the fear he has of her reaction when he plans to present her with it on their anniversary. _Are you out of your goddamn mind, Tony?!_ He can hear her now…

He reaches out, stroking over the metal of the helmet almost lovingly. It’s perfect. It had to be perfect, it’s for his wife. He would accept nothing less for her. He snuck out to put the finishing touches on the suit just after dinner, and FRIDAY is uploading the new AI to it now. Well, the temporary AI. The other AI he found too weird to upload, though he saves it to the server anyways. _Maybe I’ll use it. That’d be cool. AI Tony talking to Real Tony._

“Daddy?” 

_Son of a bitch._

“Little miss,” he whirls on his heels, hands on his hips. Morgan stands in the doorway to the garage, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders, carrying her new dinosaur stuffed animal. “What on **_earth_** are you doing out of bed?” _How the hell did you get out of the house? Pepper is going to kick my ass. Sure, honey, go for a bath. Morgan’s sleeping, anyways…_

Morgan cranes her neck, staring at the suit on the table. “What’s that?”

“Non sono affari tuoi,” Tony mutters under his breath, advancing towards their daughter and picking her up in his arms. 

“Yeah huh,” Morgan argues, looking over his shoulder at the suit. “It’s pretty.”

“It’s a present for Mommy,” Tony walks back over to the door of the garage, closing it, before placing Morgan in front of it. “You stand there and look at the door. It’s a game. If I catch you looking, you lose.”

“What do I get if I win?”

Tony smiles to himself, placing the suit quickly back in the storage unit, though he’s panicking. Kids aren’t exactly the best secret keepers.

“Uh… Whatever you want, baby.”

“A car.” Morgan tells him seriously, almost looking over her shoulder at him but catching herself before she does.

“Well… It’ll be a few years before I can give you that, honey. Anything else you can think of?”

“’Nother bedtime story?”

“Now we’re talking,” Tony takes her hand, opening the door so that they can step out into the night. “Though, really, you shouldn’t have left your bed. You know you’re not supposed to leave the house without Mommy or Daddy.”

“I know,” Morgan sighs, trudging along beside him in her footie pajamas. “Couldn’t find you, though.”

“Did you look for Mommy?” Tony glances down at her, though he’s grinning, because he already knows the answer.

“No,” Morgan admits sullenly. Tony carries her up the stairs to her bedroom, once he’s triple checked that the front door is locked behind them.

Once he has her settled on her bed, he hears Pepper as she walks down the hall towards them. 

“Tony?” Pepper is wrapped in a towel, still dripping from her bath, and Tony inwardly groans. _A fresh-from-the-bath naked Pepper Potts, and my kid is breaking out of the house and black mailing me._

“Heyo, Pep. Just in here. Morgan came looking for me, she wanted another bedtime story.” _Not entirely a lie._ His back is to his wife, he has his finger pressed up against his lips, staring at Morgan intently. She giggles under the covers, but doesn’t argue.

“Alright.” Pepper pauses, suspicious of him, but she can’t quite put her finger on what he’s up to. “Well, I’ll just be…moisturizing, in our bedroom… The sooner that you…”

“Wrap up here, the sooner I’ll be in there with you. Got it, boss.”

Pepper smiles, and leaves him to it. Tony exhales slightly, looking down at Morgan. “You could’ve ruined me, kid.”

Morgan looks up at him innocently, clutching her stuffed dinosaur. Tony moves her now neglected stuffed elephant beside her head, leaning back on his haunches. 

“So… that pretty thing?”

_Damn it._

“Like I said, it’s a surprise for Mommy. I need you to keep it a secret, okay? Can you do that?”

“Well…” Morgan cocks her head, considering it. “Maybe…”

“Okay, maybe. I can work with that. You’re already getting a car in a few years ‘cause you won the game, and another bedtime story. What else can I do to sweeten the pot for you?”

Morgan thinks it over, playing with the stuffed elephant’s trunk, looking very thoughtful with her eyebrows furrowed. “A tree house -.”

“Great! A tree house, I can build you the best tree house ever! How many floors do you --.” His eyes widen as she cuts him off, pressing her hand to his mouth to quiet him.

“And… a kitty.”

“Huh,” Tony’s voice is muffled against her palm. “A kitty? Really? I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to convince Mommy to get you a kitty…” 

“A kitty and a tree house, or…” Morgan drops her hand away from his mouth, but gives him a knowing look, the threat hanging in the air unspoken. _Or I’ll tell Mommy about the suit. Ooh, you are a sneaky one, Morgan Maria Stark._

“Fine,” Tony sighs, extending his pinky finger. “A kitty and a tree house for your silence.”

“Yay!” Morgan is delighted, wrapping her pinky finger around his. _Goddamn pinky promise. Now I really have to get her a cat._

Tony starts to get to his feet, thinking of Pepper, only a few yards away in their bedroom – waiting for him… 

“Wait,” there’s a hand grabbing at his pant leg, tugging insistently before he can take more than a step away from the bed. “You promised a story,” Morgan pouts. 

Tony resists for no longer than a second, sighing as he sits on the edge of the bed. _Pepper will have to wait._ “You’re right, buttercup. I did. What sort of story do you want?” He picks up the book from her bedside table, fingers running over the worn letters on the front. He’d read her the first Harry Potter book a hundred times, and he’s beginning to think that the story is just now starting to sink in. When Pepper had been pregnant with Morgan, he’d read their child the entire series, but now that she’s a living, breathing human being – he doesn’t want to terrify her with Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters just yet. No, the first book is scary enough, towards the end anyways.

Morgan shakes her head, pushing the book back towards the nightstand. “No, I want your stories!”

Tony raises an eyebrow, setting the book down with a bit of a huff. “One of my stories, huh? Iron Man is pretty cool…” _Was._

“No,” Morgan rolls her eyes, but she’s on the edge of giggling. “Not ‘bout you, silly!”

“What’s one of my stories, then?” Tony asks, insulted. _What kid doesn’t want to hear a story about Iron Man? Savior of the universe like a million times over. Except when it mattered._ “You just want me to tell you a story?”

“Yup,” Morgan smiles at him, closing her eyes as his hand brushes over her forehead and pushes her hair back gently. “About Petey.”

Tony swallows, looking away for a moment. He can tell her all the stories he can muster about Captain America, Thor, Black Widow, the Hulk – and she’ll eat them up with a grin. Morgan’s favorite stories, however, had to do with Spider-Man. Iron Man stories came in last place, unfortunately, unless he featured in a Spider-Man story. Telling stories about Peter, instead of having Peter here to tell the stories himself, hurts. _It’s like I’m memorializing him, because he’s dead._  

“Alright.” Tony rubs at his chin, fingers scraping against the coarse hair of his beard. “A Spider-Man story… Let me think.” He shies away from telling stories of Spider-Man in action, which would perhaps tick Peter Parker off, were he still alive. But the stories Tony tells are how Tony wants to remember him – not fighting on his behalf, or dying in his place, no…

“Close your eyes, peanut.” Tony waits until Morgan does as she’s told, watching her as she screws her eyes comically closed.

“It’s a beautiful day in Manhattan. It’s sunny and bright enough that New Yorkers on the street finally get the chance to complain about how hot it is – something they’ve longed to do since winter. Up in the air, though, Spider-Man only feels the cool breeze rippling over his suit as he swings from skyscraper to skyscraper. He’s just gotten out of school, you see, and after being pent up in stuffy classrooms with air conditioners struggling to work, he couldn’t go straight home – not without taking a bit of time to cool off. He swings and lets go, letting out a whoop as he falls through the air for a few nerve-wracking moments, before letting off another strand of web, flying forward again, and again…”

Tony has his own eyes closed, picturing the story that he’s telling – for the both of them, in truth. Morgan is so quiet, like she’s holding her breath, her hands clutching at the blankets.

“Suddenly, Spider-Man senses something, from blocks away. Sirens – ambulances, fire trucks, police cars. He flings himself up on the roof of a nearby building, his fingers curved over the edge, holding him in place. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and focuses. His Spidey senses tell him that the commotion is coming from Times Square. If he focuses hard enough, he can hear people screaming.”

Morgan inhales quietly, her little fingers clutching harder at the duvet. “What is it, Daddy?”

“That’s what Spider-Man wonders, but there’s only one way for him to find out. He swings from building to building, no longer focused on enjoying the fresh air, now all he wants to do is find out whatever’s happening in Times Square. He hurtles through the air, nearly kicking out the lights of a billboard as he extends his legs into the next swing. His feet scrape against the road, people crying out in surprise as Spider-Man nearly falls on top of them.”

“’Sorry!’ Spider-Man tells them, because even though he’s in a rush, he never forgets his manners.” _How’s that, kid? I’m using you to teach my kid to say thank you and sorry. I don’t think you’d mind._ “He climbs up onto a billboard, his eyes scanning over the crowd that’s gathered. He can’t see anyone that’s hurt, though he does see a man eating a hot dog, and his stomach rumbles.” Tony’s fingers dance over Morgan’s stomach, Morgan giggling wildly and squirming away from his hands. He tickles her for a few moments more before drawing his hands away, Morgan catching her breath and looking at him with a suspicious expression. “Close your eyes, baby.” 

“No tickling.”

“No tickling,” Tony repeats, holding up his right hand – though the significance of the gesture is no doubt lost on Morgan.

“’Spider-Man!’” Tony puts on a gruff voice, his best impersonation of a NYPD police officer. “’Hey, Spider-Man, we need your help!’ Spider-Man looks down at the crowd, instantly able to pick out the officer talking to him. ‘There, on the New Years’ Eve ball! There’s -.’ The police officer is about to tell Spider-Man what they are dealing with, but he’s already swinging through the air, towards the glass ball that drops in Times Square every New Years’ Eve. ‘Be careful!’ People scream at him, gasping as he flies through the air, his blood racing in his ears. Up on the top of the ball, he finds…”

“What does he find, Daddy?” Morgan only lasts a few seconds into his long pause, reaching out and grabbing at his arm, shaking it insistently. “What does Petey find?”

“He finds a little orange kitten, curled up at the top of the ball, shaking. The kitten meows when Spider-Man reaches out to pet it gently, wondering how a little guy like him can end up on top of the ball. On top of the world.” Tony pauses, watching a big smile spread across Morgan’s face. _Not bad, completely off the ol’ dome. Not bad at all._ “’Spider-Man’s got the cat!’ the crowd cheers as he swings back to the ground, the kitten carefully held against his chest. Once on the ground, people flock around him, patting him on the back. The firefighters and EMS guys start walking back to their fire trucks and ambulances, the crisis is over. The gruff police officer who shouted at him earlier claps on the back, someone hands him a hot dog to eat. ‘Whose cat is this?’ is all Spider-Man wants to know, but no one claims the little kitten in his arms. ‘You’ll have to take him, Spider-Man. You saved him.’ And so, Spider-Man heads back home, wondering how he’s going to explain to his aunt how he went to school that morning with just his back pack, and is returning home with an orange kitten.”

Morgan opens her eyes, looking at him seriously. “What did he name the kitty?” 

“Morgan.” 

“Really?” Morgan smiles, she can hardly believe it. 

“Yes, really.” Tony leans down and kisses her goodnight. “Where else do you think Mommy and I got your name from?” He plugs in the tiger nightlight beside her bed and gets to his feet. “Goodnight, honey.”

“Night, Daddy.” Morgan is satisfied – how could she not be, not only has she been promised a cat, she also had a bedtime story heavily featuring one. “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” Tony says as he flicks off her light and slips out of her bedroom. He starts walking to where Pepper is waiting for him and pauses in the hallway, his hands fisting in his pockets.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, boss?”

Tony’s eyes close for a moment, and he leans against the wall, he’d prefer not to think about the implications of what he’s about to ask the AI to do. And yet… “I want you to start recording the bedtime stories I tell Morgan. Even when I’m just reading to her. Can you do that?”

“Yes, boss. What should I file them under?”

“I should probably put it with the Stark AI… Tell you what, FRI, put it in the Sunset folder, please. Name the subfolder Sweet Dreams.” He straightens up off of the wall and heads towards his bedroom. _That way, if I’m gone one day, I’ll still be able to read her bedtime stories. God, that’s morbid._

“Who were you talking to out there?” Pepper asks him sweetly from where she’s laying on their bed. _Moisturizing indeed…_

“No one at all, honey,” Tony winks at her, shutting the door to their bedroom firmly behind him, the lock clicking into place.

* * *

 

The pet carrier is still in the trunk. Tony wraps it back up in the blanket, pushing it further towards the back. _Not like Pepper is going to check the trunk before getting into the car. I’m overthinking it._ But just in case, he grabs one of Morgan’s cast off stuffed animals that had been resigned to a life in the trunk of the Audi, putting it in front of the blanket wrapped bundle. He looks over his shoulder at the house, his expression guilty, like he’d just hidden a bunch of cocaine instead of a plastic pet carrier. Tony shuts the trunk quietly, even though Pepper doesn’t have superhuman hearing, it’s better to be safe than sorry. _Maybe there’s still an aspect of Extremis that lets her know when I’m up to something. It sure as hell seems like it._

“Daddy!” Morgan waves to him with her spoon as he walks into the kitchen, a big grin on her face. She, of course, is in on the plan. She had crossed her heart that morning as he helped her get dressed, that she would not breathe a word of what they were up to to her mother. It helps that this mission is one that Morgan wants very badly to be successfully completed. Pepper glances over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“How were the chickens?”

“Oh, very good,” Tony lies – though it’s a white lie, if anything. The chickens are always very good. Yes, Tony does seem to check on them often, because they make the perfect cover story. Pepper never once has ventured outside to check on the veracity of his story, because it’s so damn simple. _I am a mastermind of evilness and duplicity. Should’ve been a supervillain instead of a superhero._

Tony lifts Morgan from her chair, she’s managed to spread most of her oatmeal around the tray that’s placed in front of her, but Tony knows that her lack of appetite is due to excitement. 

“Say, Pep… Wanna go for a ride?”

Pepper gathers the dishes off of the table, considering his offer. “That might be nice. It looks sunny out there. Where were you thinking?”

“Not sure,” Tony says, pressing his finger to Morgan’s lips to silence her before she can spill the beans. “Let’s find out as we go.”

“Okay,” Pepper says with a smile, putting the dishes on the rack to dry while Tony moves into the foyer to get Morgan into her shoes. “As long as you don’t speed, Tony.” 

“Pepper, darling, my beautiful bride, I simply cannot promise you that I’ll adhere to the speed limit.” The Velcro straps of Morgan’s shoes tear loudly, Tony shoving her feet into the shoes before Morgan can writhe her way out of his grasp and scamper away. “Anyways, Morgan likes to roll the window down and stick her head out. Like a dog.”

“God, Tony, can you stop calling our child a dog?” Pepper grabs her purse from the hook, slinging it over her shoulder. Inside is a veritable goldmine of snack food, meant for their daughter, but mostly the unfortunate victim of Tony’s never-ending sugar cravings.

“I can’t,” Tony shakes his head, opening the front door so that his wife and daughter can step out in front of him. “She’s starting to look a bit scrappy, too. Like she needs a haircut.”

“You’re scrappy,” Morgan mumbles as she walks past him, though she can handle her father’s teasing on today of all days.

“I am a bit scrappy,” Tony acknowledges, locking the door behind him, car keys dangling from his other hand. He hops down the steps of the porch, onto the driveway. Idly, he clicks the lock button a few times, until the Audi starts to honk. “Aw man, Morgan, Stuart is talking to you again.”

“He is!” Morgan jumps in front of the car, patting it on the hood very gently. “Hi, Stuart! We’re goin’ on a ride.”

Pepper hides her laugh behind her hand, nudging Tony’s shoulder as he causes the horn to honk again. “Stop, Tony.” She laughs harder as Morgan engages in an animated conversation with the car. “It seems… cruel,” Pepper tells him breathlessly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“One day, I’ll give her a car that really does talk to her, how ‘bout that? It’s not cruel, anyways. It’s cute as hell.” He pockets the keys for a moment, the Audi going silent in response, its headlights cutting out. Morgan complains loudly as he scoops her up into his arms, Pepper opening the back door for him so that he can place Morgan into her car seat.

“I was talking to him,” Morgan reaches out and taps Tony in the center of his forehead, which he much prefers to how she would grab at his nose and tug very hard when she didn’t get what she wanted, up until recently.

“I know, sweetheart. You’ll be meowing soon, though.” Morgan’s eyes widen, recalling why they are going on this ride in the first place, and she shushes him.

“Quiet, Daddy,” her brown eyes are infinitely serious. “Secret, ‘member?”

“I sure do, baby.” Tony buckles her into her car seat, Pepper making herself comfortable in the passenger seat in front of them, completely unaware that Tony intends to drive them to the animal shelter and back. _Not much of a drive, only twenty minutes or so. Fuck, is Pepper allergic to cats?_

Tony slides into the driver’s seat, starting the car with a loud rev of the engine, Morgan cheering in the background.

“Yay, kitties!” 

He glances over at Pepper as they pull out of the driveway, but she’s smiling benignly, assuming that Morgan is just cheering for cats in general. _It’s not entirely out of character for her, anyways…_

Pepper’s benign smile fades when they pull into the parking lot of the animal shelter, looking at Tony in confusion, her eyebrows furrowed. He leans over and kisses her as he turns off the car, feeling the tension fade out of her at the kiss.

“Don’t want you to get worry lines.”

She smacks him on his upper arm with a flat hand, hard.

“No hitting,” Morgan says serenely from the backseat.

“She’s right, honey.” Tony pulls away with a wink. “Anyways, what’s the harm in looking?”

“We’re just looking,” Pepper warns, but he’s already out of the car and Morgan is cheering for cats again as she’s released from her car seat.

Pepper strays behind them as they make their way towards the large yellow building. Animal shelters were still filled to the brim with various pets whose owners had disappeared into thin air years before. If Tony had his way, he’d adopt them all. _Best not to do that, though, Stark. Start off small, or you’ll spook Pep._

“After you, my lady,” He doffs an invisible cap to Pepper, stepping back and holding the door open for her. Pepper blushes, though the look in her eyes tells him that he’s an idiot. _Her idiot, though._  

Morgan runs up to the desk, and Tony thinks she’s about to vault over it in her haste to see all the cats that are available, but she comes to a polite stop in front of where the elderly volunteer is typing into a computer. 

“Can I help you?” The woman asks, glancing up at Pepper and Tony with a knowing smile before focusing her attention back on Morgan.

“I would like a kitty, please.” Morgan is earnest, rocking back and forth on her heels, a bit of anxious energy being let out.

“We have lots of kitties,” the volunteer gets to her feet, picking up a ring of keys from the desk. “Let’s go look at them, shall we?” 

“Yes!” Morgan takes the old woman’s hand, leaving her parents in the dust.

“I guess we’re just chopped liver,” Tony takes Pepper’s hand, pleased that she’s allowing him to hold it. _She can’t be too mad, then._

“You’re lucky she’s cute, Tony Stark. A cat…”

Tony looks at her anxiously as they walk down the hall, Morgan talking a mile a minute to the volunteer, describing the type of cat she was looking for. “You’re not allergic, are you?”

Pepper laughs, leaning in to kiss his cheek.  “Sweet of you to ask once you’ve brought me into a building full of cats." 

“Epi-pen’s in the car,” Tony says, defensive. “I didn’t come completely unprepared…”

“And if I was allergic, and went into anaphylactic shock, you’d have to run to the car to get the pen…”

“True, you’d probably die before I could get it to you. Damn. Should I go get it?” 

“I’m not allergic,” Pepper grins, letting go of his hand so that she can catch up to Morgan, who is standing slack-jawed in a room full of cats.

Tony walks in front of each cage, bending down to get a good look at each prospective new member of the Stark family. Some part of him is looking for a cat similar to Mr. Sweetheart, as if his childhood pet had merely run away from Stark Manor and fathered his own dynasty, one of which would surely be in this shelter. He’s a little blue when he fails to find a black cat with a white bow-tie marking, sending Howard Stark a few choice thoughts to wherever he is. _Hopefully in hell._  

“Daddy, look at this one!” Tony hurries over to where Morgan is sat on the floor, her hands wrapped around the slim bars of the cage. He bends down, ignoring the sudden flare of pain in his chest. _Comes with the territory, weak heart and all._ Inside of the cage is a small orange kitten, and Tony shakes his head in disbelief. How the hell had his bedtime story come to life?

The volunteer unlocks the cage, the curious kitten slinking out of it, meowing loudly. Morgan scoops it up in her arms, gentle but excited. Tony winces, reaching his arms out to pull the cat away, expecting it to hiss and claw Morgan’s arms to bloody ribbons. The kitten doesn’t even give the faintest sound of displeasure; instead, it purrs and rubs its cheek against Morgan’s wrist. 

“Can we keep him, Mommy?” Morgan knows it is Pepper who needs convincing, Tony had sworn his allegiance on the night that she had busted him working on the Rescue suit. 

Pepper strokes the cat, sighing a little as it looks up at her with bright blue eyes. _I know what you’re thinking Pep, you’d rather die than say no_. “Well, sweetie, what would you like to name him?”

“Really?!” Morgan gasps, giggling as the kitten starts to knead her thigh, Tony wincing again as sharp claws dig into the denim of her jeans over and over again. “I wanna name him Morgan!”

“Nope,” Tony says, popping the ‘p’. “That would be too confusing. Try again.”

Morgan pouts, returning her gaze to the kitten on her lap. The volunteer is across the room, drafting up the adoption paperwork. “Peter,” Morgan suggests quietly. Tony is silent.

“No, honey.” Pepper’s voice is soft, knowing that the name would only cause Tony pain. “How about something else? Maybe not a human name…”

Morgan is silent, thinking it over. Tony fills out the paperwork in the meantime, handing the volunteer a wad of bills, asking the rest to be used to maintain the shelter.

“Slinky.” Morgan decides suddenly, as the cat prowls between Tony’s feet.

“Slinky,” he repeats with a nod. “That’s a good one, baby. Slinky it is. You wanna take Slinky home? He’s ready to go.” 

Morgan gets to her feet, following after the kitten as it roams across the room, picking up its pace once it notices that it has a little human hot in pursuit.

“I’ll go get the carrier.” 

“You brought a carrier? You planned this?” Pepper is incredulous. 

“Of course, Pep,” Tony steps over Slinky as he darts in front of him. He looks over his shoulder at her, pushing open the door that leads back to the lobby. “When have you _ever_ known me to make an impulsive decision?”

The door shuts just as Pepper takes a deep breath to respond.


	12. Chapter 12

Tony’s hands tremble as flames flicker from the end of the lighter yet again. He leans down, holding his breath, and cups his hand around the candle. The wick ignites, and Tony’s eyes flick between it and the lighter, a silent threat to the candle not to blow out again.

“Do you always get this stressed when lighting candles, Stark?”

“Christ!” The candle blows out with his harsh exhalation, and he looks over at Nebula with a scowl. “I told you to stop doing that!”

“It’s fun to watch you jump.” Nebula crosses her arms over her chest, studying him for a moment. “You’re sweating.” 

“I’m nervous!” Tony chucks the lighter at her, which is futile, as Nebula snatches it out of the air before it can strike the wall next to her head. “Why are you in here, anyways?”

“I finished preparing the salad,” Nebula extends her arm, flicks on the lighter, and lights the candle without incident. “You should wipe your face. You’re also very pale, Stark. Were I Pepper, I would not find you very attractive.”

“You don’t find me very attractive, anyways,” Tony mutters under his breath, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

Nebula watches him do that with disgust, shaking her head. “I meant with a cloth. This is why I don’t find you attractive.” She places the lighter back in the drawer where it belongs, apparently not trusting Tony with it in his present state. “Would it cause you to relax if we were to review the plan again?” 

“No,” Tony runs his fingers through his hair, which he had carefully combed not even half an hour ago, messing it up in an instant.

“You are a hopeless case, Stark.” Nebula glances at the clock, and then back at him. “Pepper will be arriving any moment. She will think that you’re going into cardiac arrest if you look like that. Stay there.”

Tony doesn’t argue, leaning back against the counter and taking a deep breath while Nebula goes upstairs to get supplies that will hopefully make him look presentable. _It’s just your anniversary, Stark. You’ve had them before. Yes, it’s true, this time you’ll be giving her Rescue… But it’s not like she’s gonna divorce you for it. Maybe. As long as she doesn’t interpret it as me… obsessing again. Christ, what if she does? I won’t be able to get a word in if she gets worked up. This is a bad idea. I should scrap it._

“Disgusting,” Nebula mutters, wiping his flushed face with a handkerchief. Tony blinks, opening his mouth to ask her how the hell she got back here so fast, and then decides not to bother. _Cybernetically enhanced, no fucking joke._  

“Thanks.” Tony’s usual response to that sort of comment would be sarcastic, but in this moment he’s earnestly appreciative. He’s a mess right now, he knows it. Not only had Nebula offered to babysit for the evening, she’d arrived early to help him prepare his anniversary meal so that he didn’t set himself on fire in the process. Now she’s combing his hair and straightening the collar of his shirt with a frown.

“Alright, Stark. Just remember,” Nebula’s grating voice pitches upwards, her attempt at being upbeat. “You’ll have a nice dinner with Pepper. I’ll be upstairs with Morgan -.”

“With nothing flammable. No eye lasers, no knives, nothing poisonous.” Nebula rolls her eyes at the interjection, Tony had been over these rules with her many times.

“I will be upstairs with Morgan,” she continues, shooting him a warning glance. _Okay. Message received. No more interruptions._ “I shall play with her until her mandatory bedtime. Then I will… read her a bedtime story and make sure she falls asleep. Meanwhile, you shall take Pepper to the garage, show her the new suit, and give it a test run. The both of you?”

“Yes, the both of us. In case something goes wrong.”

Nebula nods, patting him on the shoulder with more force than the average person would apply, Tony wincing at the pain of her hand striking his shoulder. “Nothing will go wrong. We’ve reviewed the blueprints. While you and Pepper are flying, I’m going to make sure that all is well here. You return, we say goodnight, and you give me my own suit.”

Tony laughs, shaking his head. “I knew you’d fit that in somewhere, how many times do I have to tell you – I’m not going to give you a suit.”

“I’ll get a suit,” Nebula mutters to herself as the front door opens. Morgan runs into the foyer at high speed, holding up a bag of cotton candy. 

“Well… She’ll be a bit excitable,” Tony rubs at the back of his neck, he hadn’t factored cotton candy in to the plan. 

“Look, Daddy! Mommy let me get this!” Morgan holds the bag higher, Tony wondering idly if she thinks his eyesight is that bad that she needs to thrust the bag of candy against his nose. “Want some?” 

“I’m gonna pass, baby -.”

“Nebula!” The cotton candy is thrown to the ground, forgotten, Morgan flinging herself at the alien. 

“Morgan,” Nebula smiles as she hugs the girl to her. “Your mouth is all blue.” 

“Like yours!” Morgan grins at her, snatching the bag of cotton candy once she’s placed down on her own two feet. “C’mon, Nebula, we can share it.”

Pepper wanders into the kitchen as Nebula and Morgan ascend the stairs to Morgan’s bedroom. She notices the candles first, and then the table set for two.

“Tony, you didn’t!” She sounds delighted, though, setting her purse down on the counter so that she can wrap both arms around him. Her lips press to his cheek gently. 

“No promises that we don’t get food poisoning. But yes, I made us dinner. I thought about getting us reservations some place, since we have Nebula helping out, but…” 

“It’s perfect,” Pepper says warmly, her cheeks flushed. “It’s actually really romantic.” 

“Wore my apron, too,” Tony tells her, knowing it will make her laugh. “Which means you really ought to kiss the chef. Otherwise the apron will know. That can happen after dinner, though. Take a seat, honey. I’ll get everything set up. You want some wine?” 

“You’re all dressed up… I should go change…” 

“Nah, don’t worry about it, Potts. You’re gorgeous as is.” She’s wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt, but Tony is sincere. “Anyways, we’ve only got Nebula til 9 so we better not waste any time. Wine?” 

Pepper sits down at the dining room table, marveling at the layout of the plates and cutlery – she can easily imagine Tony with a leveler in one hand and measuring tape in the other. It’s pristine. “Are you sure?” 

Tony’s back is to her, and he winces a bit at that, his scarred hand throbbing at the memory. “Yeah, I’m sure. Don’t worry about me, hon. I’ve got some sparkling grape juice if I’m really feeling it tonight.”

He uncorks a bottle of red wine, pouring Pepper a generous glass and places it down in front of her. “You must’ve had a busy day with Morgan if she broke you down to the point that you had to buy her cotton candy.”

“She gave me those puppy dog eyes, you know the ones.” Pepper takes a sip of wine, watching with interest as he starts to plate up their dinner for them. “There was a cotton candy cart at the park, and all the other kids were walking around with huge bags of it. And then she did the ‘please, Mommy, please.’” Pepper drags out the last word, just like Morgan does – it’s uncanny. “I’m glad someone else is watching her tonight.”

Tony laughs, “Yeah, she’ll crash by 9, right? Or is that just wishful thinking?” He brings their plates over to the table, grinning as Pepper’s eyes widen.

“Wow, Tony, you really were brave this evening. Is that lamb?”

“Sure is. I have advanced beyond burned omelets, it’s true.” He sits across from her, picking up his glass of water. “Cheers, Pep.”

Her glass of wine clinks against his, and she smiles softly at him, admiring the way the candlelight is reflected in his warm brown eyes. “Happy anniversary, Tony.”

* * *

 

Their dinner plates are sitting in the sink, and while usually they both would be stood at the counter, respectively washing and drying them – they remain sat at the dining table, stuffed to the gills.

“I probably should’ve just had one of those cakes instead of two…” Tony sounds regretful, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt, the collar feeling more restrictive. He’s not had anything to drink, but he’s flushed like he has. _It’s the nerves. It’s just the nerves._ “But they were just so damn good. Am I tooting my own horn?”

“Yes,” Pepper tells him, setting down her empty wine glass. “You are. But it’s okay, because the cakes were really good, honey.”

“Any gastrointestinal distress?”

“Not as of yet.” Pepper tilts her head, looking across the table at him thoughtfully. “We should give it time, though. I don’t think food poisoning would strike that fast.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Pep,” Tony grins, getting to his feet. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Pepper takes his hand in hers as he leads her out of the kitchen towards the front door. “Oh, god, Tony – are we doing presents? Yours are upstairs, wait, I want to go get them.” 

“Let me give you yours first, Pep.” _Damn, what if she doesn’t like it and then she doesn’t give me my presents? That would suck._ “I can open mine later. Yours kinda… It’s gonna take a bit of explaining.”

“I didn’t see any giant stuffed animals outside,” Pepper sounds anxious, looking around wildly once they are out on the driveway. “Maybe I just didn’t look hard enough.”

“It’s not a giant stuffed animal,” Tony sighs, not even bothering to feign outrage. “I thought, after everything I’ve been through in life, that you would eventually let that one go. It was just a bunny.”

“A bunny that was larger than our bed,” Pepper squeezes his hand. “Aw, Tony, alright, I’m sorry. Don’t get all pouty on our anniversary.” 

“Not pouting,” he argues, opening the door to the garage. The lights flick on in an instant, as he steps inside.

“You are, I can tell by your tone of voice…” Pepper looks around the workshop, checking the corners first, and then the tabletops. “Oh, you cleaned your workshop? For me? Tony, you shouldn’t have…”

“Have you always been this much of a smart-ass?” Tony asks as he places her in front of where she needs to be, the panel of concrete in front of her seamlessly connected to the rest of the floor, unless you were to look closely.

“I know…” Pepper sounds regretful, “I ask myself the same thing sometimes. Occupational hazard of being married to Tony Stark.” 

Tony laughs, and then wrings his hand. Pepper sees the movement, and she raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. 

“Okay, there’s really no way to explain it til you see it, so, I guess… Uh, FRIDAY – bring it up, please.” 

Tony steps to the side as the storage unit begins to rise from the floor. There’s no obnoxious fanfare, no dramatic smoke billowing up to the ceiling. Not even the hiss of hydraulics. But the suit is gorgeous, a royal blue, glinting gold, and shimmering silver. _My magnum opus._  

Pepper stares at it, her expression unreadable.

Tony starts to panic, he had been expecting at least an ‘oh my God’. Not this unnerving silence that fills the workshop with a chill. 

“It’s just a suit. A suit for you. And I didn’t build it for any reason like – like I was worried about you, or whatever. Honest to God. There’s no ulterior motive to this, I swear. I just – remembered how, when you wore my suit at Malibu – and then I got to thinking how cool it would be. For you and me, you know?” Only Pepper Potts would be able to understand this frantic stream of consciousness, and maybe James Rhodes, as well. “I mean, _yes_ , technically it _is_ equipped with weaponry. But you don’t have to use that! I really just wanted… And the color scheme, it’s – you remember the dress you wore at the Firefighter’s Family Fund gala in 2008? Of course you do, it was backless – incredible. I do, obviously, because I pulled the colors from it to make your suit that – and you hate it, don’t you? It was stupid. I can’t return it, obviously – I would if I could, but I can’t. I’ll just scrap it. Right? I’ll just -.”

Pepper’s hand is around his arm, squeezing tightly. “Tony. Breathe. I don’t hate it. I promise I don’t hate it.”

Tony deflates, looking at her incredulously. “You don’t hate it? You must, this whole time I’ve been building it, you were supposed to…”

“Supposed to get mad at you? If you really built it so we could go… flying together, then, Tony – I love it. I really do.”

“You do?” Tony is struggling to process her words, it’s complete cognitive dissonance. This was not the expected reaction – he’s spent all these years as he’s built the suit convinced that Pepper would want nothing to do with him after receiving it.

“Yes, I love it. It’s really sweet, Tony. And you say you’re not nostalgic,” Pepper teases him, her hand dropping away from his arm as she steps closer to the suit. It automatically unfurls, panels sliding away, expecting her to step into it. “Whoa. How did it do that?”

“Well… I sort of…” Tony runs a hand over his face, his palm muffling his words. “Did some neural matching… I wasn’t sure if it would work, because – you remember, I injected mine subcutaneously. With yours, I sort of… Slipped it into your cereal a couple weeks back. You didn’t notice, it was just a little capsule. But I wasn’t sure if it would be able to survive your digestive system, and then for it to enter your blood stream. But it worked!” Tony’s hand drops away from his face, and he’s grinning triumphantly.

“You – you slipped something into my _food_ , Tony?”

 _Uh-oh. Oh fuck._ “Just a – a capsule, completely harmless. Just because I didn’t know if it would survive your digestive system doesn’t mean that I just threw it into you without checking that it wouldn’t kill you upon ingestion!” Tony raises his hands in surrender. “It’s no big deal. I’m not going to sell your thoughts to a third party.” 

“It can read my mind?” Now Pepper sounds moderately furious, her face flushed. “Jesus Christ, Tony, you can’t just -.”

“Pepper, honey.” His hand is at the small of her back, attempting to comfort her. She doesn’t pull away, Thank God. He can still salvage this. “I swear to God, it doesn’t read your mind. It just picks up on thought patterns. It’s supposed to make the suit more intuitive. Like, you wanted to get into it, and it opened up. That’s all. This stuff has been in my blood stream for years. If there was something untoward happening, I would know about it. I swear, sweetheart. Maybe I should’ve… told you about it, before doing it…” 

“You think? Jesus.” 

“I’m sorry.” Tony pulls his hand away, shoving it into his pocket. “I’m sorry, it was selfish. I just wanted you to like it.” 

Pepper is silent, even chillier than before. _Great. Great going, Stark. Fucking idiot. You make it all the way from one end of the field to the other, and fumble the ball right before touchdown. Great._  

“You promise me it’s only surface level?”

“Yes,” Tony says instantly. “I swear.” 

“Get my permission next time you decide to do something like that, Tony.” Pepper sighs, and Tony’s stomach drops, synapses firing – it dawns on him. _Fucking of course. Extremis. Jesus, what was I thinking? Of course she’d react like that._ His hand hits his forehead lightly, hating himself for upsetting her. For bringing back bad memories on their anniversary.

“God, Pepper, I swear to God. I’ll never do that again. I just wanted – it to be perfect.” 

“Alright,” Pepper reaches out and rubs at his forehead, the skin there red from where he’d smacked himself. “I forgive you, Tony. Okay? I forgive you. I know what you were trying to do.” She kisses him gently. “Don’t beat yourself up, honey. I’ll just poison your food next time I make you something.”

Tony starts to smile, feeling a little better now. “Absolutely okay. Please, by all means. To the very edge of death.” 

“Mm, maybe not that far. Morgan’s fond of you.” Pepper grins, “I guess I am too. Even if you are an idiot.” She turns her attention back to the suit. “It does seem a bit traditional, though. Like some of your earlier suits. No nano-tech?” 

“Oh, about that. There are nanites, sure.” He taps the gold panels on the shoulders. “I stored them here. I didn’t think that you’d want, you know… A reactor to carry the suit around in. It didn’t seem like your style. There’s a good amount, though… You could make whatever you need with them, and with the neural matching… They’ll, you know, make what you want.” 

Pepper takes another hesitant step forward. All she has to do is get into the suit, now, and it would close around her.

“Can we… Try it?”

Tony’s face lights up. “Yes! Absolutely, yes. It is one hundred percent ready to go. I thought we could go for a bit of a test flight together.” He opens a drawer, pulling out the arc reactor. Nimble fingers unbutton the rest of his shirt, the reactor latched into place on his chest. Pepper hadn’t been too happy about that minor surgery. Well, she’d been angrier about the fact that he’d done it on himself in the middle of the night. _Probably should’ve picked a better operating room than the bathroom._  

“Just step in, Pep.” He taps the reactor once, cool metal spreading over his flesh, covering his shirt, his trousers, over his dress shoes. No need for an undersuit now, though he’s never attempted to put the suit on completely naked. That’s just asking for trouble. Pepper steps into the suit, and Tony watches anxiously as it closes around her.

“Okay, Pep?”

“Did you try this on, Tony? It smells like your cologne.”

Tony grins. “Guilty as charged. Just the helmet, though. It was a tight squeeze. My big brain, and everything. I wanted to see how the HUD looked.”

Rescue shifts suddenly, and Tony realizes that something had Pepper spooked. “Okay in there?”

“This AI sounds like Siri!” Tony’s grin widens at the excitement in Pepper’s voice. Maybe she really would forgive him for the sleight of hand neural matching, in time.

“Yeah, it’s a new AI. I haven’t even given it a name, I thought you could do that.” _The Tony AI would **not** have been well received. Thank God I didn’t upload it. It was pig headed. Egomaniacal. Typical Tony Stark._ 

“I’ll have to think about that.” Pepper steps forward, the suit clanking against the concrete ground – not as light underfoot as Tony’s, but more graceful than many of his earlier Iron Man suits. “And I’m not calling myself Iron Woman.”

“I know,” Tony grins, watching her as she cautiously moves around the workshop, getting used to the ground before she even thinks about getting into the air. “I didn’t think you would. I gave it a name. Not that you have to keep it, or anything. But I did name it, uh… Rescue, actually.”

“Rescue?” She’s smiling, Tony can hear it in her voice. _Thank God._ “For all the times I’ve saved your ass?”

“Exactly right, Potts.” Tony moves over to the door that leads outside, the nanites of the suit spreading up his neck, over his hair – his head enclosed in an instant. “You’ve got more clearance out here, babe. I’d prefer you not to go flying through the roof. Though it would be pretty cool… I’m not recording this, do you want me to record this?” 

The Rescue suit walks toward him, no longer clunking and awkward – Pepper has grown comfortable inside of it, and it only took a few minutes. _Just like riding a bike._

“Absolutely not, Tony. What if I crash land into the lake?” 

“I’d catch you, and then we could watch the footage in a few years and laugh about it…” He sighs, “But if you’re sure, I’ll just mentally record this for my own personal enjoyment. My brain is not as reliable as FRIDAY, but…” Tony is up in the air, just hovering above the ground – the entire sky is above them, and Rescue is more than capable of entering the upper atmosphere… But Tony doesn’t want to overwhelm Pepper, and he also doesn’t want to give her any bright ideas about venturing too far in one night. 

“Give it some gas, Pep. Faith, trust, pixie dust – happy thoughts – all of that. Literally, happy thoughts. At least, I think I’m happy when I’m up in the air, but your mileage may va-.” Tony cuts himself off as the blue suit rises from the ground with a quiet hum, Pepper’s hands stuck out to stabilize herself instinctively. “Hey, you did it!”

“It’s really intuitive,” Pepper sounds beside herself, awestruck – _maybe not awestruck, I might be giving myself too much credit… Nah, she sounds awestruck._ “God, Tony, this really does feel custom made.”

“Nothing squeezing? I had your measurements on hand, so it’s bespoke… But if anything is too tight, we can modify it. I couldn’t have you try it on before the big reveal, so if it’s uncomfortable…”

“Honestly, Tony, it feels like a second skin.” Pepper is above him now, with a whoop of delight. “C’mon, you said you wanted to fly!”

Tony shakes his head, bemused. _Like a cat to cream._ “I sure as hell do, Potts. Wanna race?” 

He blinks, watching as she races off into the sky without another word. “Hey, that is totally not fair!” Tony hurtles after her, his jaw set with determination. “Just because you’re my wife does not mean I’m going to let you win, despite what you may think.” 

“Tony, I’m gonna kick your ass.” A live video-capture of Pepper’s face appears in the top right corner of his HUD, and she’s got the biggest grin on her face. Taking a look at that grin, Tony begins to fear that she might, in fact, kick his ass. 

He puts on another burst of speed, watching as the lake streams below them in a blur. Pepper’s head start has given her an advantage, and he’s sorely regretting giving her the most up to date tech in this moment. Tony’s eyes widen as a pulse of energy hurtles at him from one of Pepper’s gauntlet repulsors, rolling out of its way so fast that he’s nauseous for a moment.

“Sorry!” She does sound apologetic, and her eyes are flicked up to the right in her picture, no doubt checking her feed of his face to make sure he’s alright. “I didn’t mean to do that… I just…”

“You just thought,” Tony replies, managing a chuckle, the queasiness fading. “Yeah, you’ll have to be careful about those thoughts, honey, or you’ll kill me. At least when you’re wearing that thing.” Either Pepper is slowing down, or he’s speeding up, but he’s finally neck-and-neck with her, lapping the lake – their house miles off in the distance. Without taking the time to discuss it, they both start heading back towards the house, the clock ticking closer to 9.

“I might need some help learning all of the specs of this suit,” Pepper admits, a little sheepish. 

“Ooh, like Iron Man training? I’d love to give you that, Pep. There’s really nothing more satisfying than uni-beaming a douchebag right in the chest…” 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Pepper says uncertainly. “… And you did say that this weaponry wasn’t supposed to be used…” 

“I did.” The grass beneath them crunches into the dirt, the chickens squawking in shock as two metal suits appear from the sky mere feet from their coop. Tony watches them all frantically run inside, and he laughs. _Goddamn, that was probably traumatizing. Like an alien invasion._ His helmet retracts, the cool breeze welcome on his skin, flushed from the exhilaration of flying side by side with his wife.

Pepper’s helmet retracts a few moments after his – and her hair is a complete mess. Tony reaches out, his right hand bare, to card his fingers through it in an attempt to work out some of the forming tangles.

“Mm. You might need to wear your hair up next time, Pep.” He’s about to suggest a hair-net, a joke that he knows won’t go over well, but her lips are pressed to his insistently, shutting him up with a method that only Pepper Potts executed best.

“I love you,” she murmurs, her metal-encased hand brushing over the front of his reactor slowly, and he can almost feel the heat of her skin over his – a total imagination, given the many layers of metal between them, but still… “I feel like I need to go out and buy you sixty more anniversary presents.” 

Tony grins. “It’s the thought that counts, right, Pep? I mean, personally, I’m hoping for some new socks… Morgan has been gluing googly eyes to mine to make sock puppets, so things are getting pretty dire for my feet…”

“I didn’t buy you socks for your anniversary present,” Pepper admits. “But that’s not so difficult of a request… I’ll get some the next time I’m out shopping.” 

They walk back to the garage together, Tony’s bare fingers laced between the fingers of her gauntlet. It’s cold, but it’s still intimate.

Tony helps her step out of the suit, making sure that it fits properly back into its storage unit. In an instant, he has his reactor in his hand, placing it back into its drawer. He quickly buttons his shirt back up, watching Pepper as her expression shifts, disappointment spreading across her features while Rescue slowly sinks below the floor.

“We can take it out a bunch of times, hon. I promise. _You_ can take it out; it’s your suit. Say the word, and I’ll entertain Morgan for the duration of your flight.”

“You’re not gonna be jealous that you’re not up there too?” Pepper teases him, taking his hand properly in hers while they stroll back up to the house. 

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna be jealous. But I’m also gonna be glad that you’re getting some use of it. I think that’ll outweigh the jealousy.” 

The door opens for them just as Tony’s hand reaches out, Nebula standing in the doorway, looking at them expectantly. 

“I watched you both from the window. Which one of you tried to kill the other?”

Pepper raises her hand slowly.

“Excellent.” Nebula is grinning. “Were I flying alongside Stark, I would have done the same.”

Tony’s lips press together, shaking his head slowly. “How was Morgan?” _No way for her to discuss killing me if we’re talking about my kid._

“She was good,” Nebula slips between them, moving to the porch while Tony and Pepper move to stand inside of their home. “We read ‘If You Give a Pig a Pancake’ more times than I would like. I did not know there were such risks when giving pigs pancakes…” 

“Well, now you do.” Pepper hugs Nebula tightly. “Thank you for watching her, we really appreciate it.” 

“Anytime,” Nebula says, hugging Pepper back. “She’s better company than Rocket.”

“That’s not saying much.” Tony isn’t particularly fond of the raccoon – he reminds him too much of himself. “Have a safe flight back to the compound.”

Nebula is already halfway down the stairs to the driveway – she hadn’t brought the Benatar on this trip, no, if Tony squints hard enough in the darkness he can just make out a haze over where her much smaller ship is parked by the trees.

“You worry too much, Stark. Happy anniversary, the both of you.”

“Thanks, Nebula.” Tony waves to her as she gets into the ship, and then shuts the front door. “I swear to God, I’ll never get used to watching an alien get into a spaceship and fly away from my house after babysitting my kid.

“Mm. Me either.” Pepper presses him up against the front door, her fingers quickly unbuttoning his shirt as her lips press against his.

“Whatcha doing?” Tony murmurs between kisses, shuddering slightly as her fingertips brush over the bare skin of his chest. “Tickles.”

“You’re going to make it up to me for slipping something into my breakfast…” Pepper’s hand wraps around his wrist, tugging him towards the stairs. “And I’m going to make it up to you for the less than impressive anniversary gifts that I got you.”

Tony opens his mouth to protest, wanting to insist that she doesn’t need to make anything up to him, but she’s pulling him so quickly up the stairs that he grins instead. “I think this counts as an anniversary gift. Lead the way, Potts.”


	13. Chapter 13

There’s a loud crack as Tony gets to his feet, his hand flying to the top of his head, vision swimming. “Son of a bitch!” He stoops down, his other hand resting against the wall to keep himself upright, blinking until his vision finally clears. He had forgotten, just as he had laid the last tile beneath his feet, that this tree house is built for someone much shorter than him. Much shorter indeed. He rubs slowly at the lump forming on the top of his head, grimacing at the pain. _Goddamn._  

Looking around, though, he can’t help but be proud at what he’s built for his daughter. While he didn’t exactly need her silence anymore, with Pepper having received the Rescue suit months ago, he had promised Morgan a tree house. Long evenings spent at her bedside had unfortunately not resulted in a blueprint of what she wanted – in the end, the design was left up to Tony. So, naturally, he had built her more of a tree palace than a tree house. He had even managed to fit a bathroom on the ground floor, the plumbing built in to the sturdy oak Tony had chosen to house his creation. Today’s final task had been finishing the tile floor in the bathroom, and now that it’s done, he reaches out and flushes the toilet with baited breath. The water swirls, and Tony lets out a quiet cheer, pumping his fists above his head, his knuckles smarting as they smack against the ceiling. 

“Fuck!” He can’t help but laugh, though now his hands ache as well as his head. _I need to get out of here before I do some serious damage._

“Fuck,” Morgan echoes happily behind him, and Tony’s eyes widen in horror, immediately picturing Pepper Potts’ face upon hearing her daughter say that.

“Hey, honey!” Tony grins broadly at his daughter, shuffling over to her, still stooped to avoid scraping his head against the ceiling. “You sure aren’t supposed to be in here yet. And just so you know, that’s totally a mean word. Like, super mean. I didn’t mean to say it. Mommy would cry if she heard me say that.”

Morgan looks at him, her expression neutral. _She has a better BS detector than Pepper Potts herself. I’m screwed._ “Why’d you say it…?”

“Oh, well, you see…” Tony frowns at her, his hands resting on his hips. “Hold on, I’m not the one who should be in trouble here. I told you we’d have a ribbon cutting ceremony and then you’d be able to come inside.” 

“Wasn’t locked,” Morgan argues, her own hands going to her hips. _An unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. I believe, Stark, that you’ve reached an impasse._

“It’s not even equipped with a lock.” Tony sighs, shaking his head with a slight smile. “I guess we can pretend there was a ribbon cutting ceremony, though I was gonna invite your Mom. There was gonna be tea, and maybe even cake…”

“We can still have tea and cake,” Morgan takes his hand, pulling him out of the small bathroom. “You and Mommy can come visit me.”

“Remember, no sleepovers in here,” Tony tells her as they enter the cozy little sitting room, complete with a comfortable looking sofa and a flat screen television. “This is just to hang out. You gotta hang your hat up back in the house. No exceptions.”  

Morgan sighs, looking at him with a pleading expression, about to open her mouth to make a counterargument.

“No exceptions, little miss. C’mon upstairs, though, I did build you something super cool.” 

Tony climbs the small staircase hesitantly, afraid of bumping his head again, and arrives after a few moments in a mini workshop.

“So, you totally can’t tell Mommy about this. Well, you can. But you can say that you come up here to knit, or… I don’t think you knit, you’re like --- what, two?” He teases her, watching Morgan as she starts to scowl, which she does whenever he gets her age wrong. 

“Almost four.” 

“That’s kinda stretching it, honey. I’d say three and a half. Anyways, you can say that you come up here to color. But, really, I want you to come up here whenever you have an idea. An idea to build something, even if it’s something small. And if you need my help, you can always have FRIDAY give me a call and I’ll come straight up. But I’ve got you pretty well equipped. You won’t be able to build your own suit, or anything, but…”

Morgan takes a seat at one of the stools, pulling a crumpled up drawing out of her pocket and flattening it against the burnished metal surface of the table. “I wanna make this.”

Tony walks over to her, intrigued. Lately Morgan’s designs have pertained to Slinky – Tony has thus far not allowed her to cybernetically enhance the cat, though a prehensile tail does sound amazing. He suggested instead that they build a robot cat together, but Morgan hadn’t been as enthused about that idea. He glances down at the paper, expecting to see Slinky 2.0. His fear is met with pride as he takes in the crudely drawn metal suit that Morgan had etched into the paper, coloring with such intensity that he can practically see each stroke of the crayon. The suit is green and pink, a bit of a garish clash, and clunkier looking than what he would make for her – but he attributes her lack of design finesse to her age. 

“What are you holding in your hand?” Tony squints down at the shapeless orange blob with what looks to be green eyes sat on Morgan’s outstretched palm, awash in blue light from the repulsor in her gauntlet. 

“Slinky. He needs a suit, too.” 

“You know, honey, I think Slinky is perfectly happy on the ground. And the tree, the one time he climbed that. But remember how I had to climb up there and get him? He doesn’t like heights very much… Is that…?” He points at the top right corner of the page, much smaller than Morgan’s suit – really not much more than a red and gold stick figure and a blue and gold stick figure. 

“You and Mommy. We’re all flying together.” 

“Aw, Morgan, that’s really sweet.” Tony swallows back some emotion, and thinks very carefully over what to say next. “Have you shown Mommy this?”

“No,” Morgan shakes her head solemnly. “I was gonna build it…”

“Honey, you’re brilliant. Honestly, you’re an amazing kid, and this is an amazing idea. But… I think we should wait a few years before getting you your own suit. It’s not because I think you’re too young.” _You are totally too young. Your mother would absolutely kill me. It’s bad enough that you made this, that this is how I’ve influenced you…_ “But when you’re older, we’ll be able to refine the design together, and make it super cool. Maybe we’d even be able to make Slinky a suit, then.” _Totally lying. Lying out of my ass. Anything to get her to shelf this._

“How long?” Morgan has always been pragmatic, and when faced with her father’s vague timeline, she demands a more concrete response.  

“How about… When you’re sixteen? You’d be able to drive by then, so I think it’s fair to say that you’d be able to pilot the suit.”

“Sixteen?” Morgan looks horrified, brown eyes wide. “I’ll be  **old**!”

“Ancient,” Tony agrees with a grin. “Absolutely wizened. All the better to make a suit then, imagine all of the wisdom you’ll have at sixteen.” He picks up the drawing, rustling around in a drawer for some pushpins. In a matter of seconds, her design is pinned to the center of the corkboard that decorates one of the walls of the workshop. 

“There, look.” Tony stands beside her, quickly ducking his head again just as he’s about to strike it against the ceiling. _Why didn’t I just make this a regularly sized tree house? Jesus._ “Every time you get an idea, you can stick it up there. And then, once you’re sixteen, you should have the best suit ever made.” He ruffles her hair with a grin. “All that brain up here, I’m sure you’ll have another idea in like thirty seconds… Have you told anyone else about this?” 

“I sent it to Nebula,” Morgan says with a defiant frown. “She said it was good.”

“She would say that it’s good,” Tony reaches in a drawer, pulling out a piece of paper and some crayons. Yes, he had built her a workshop, but it is a workshop for a three (soon to be four) year old. So, there are coloring supplies, coloring books, toys tucked away in drawers, a selection of Disney movies available on the television downstairs – anything he thought Morgan would desire, he had made sure to include. 

“She would say it’s good,” Tony repeats, watching as Morgan tears into the crayons, scribbling something a very bright yellow. “Because Nebula has been bugging me to give her a suit for years. Do you think I should give her one?”

“Yeah!” Morgan looks at him like he’s stupid. “She could fly.”

“Mm.” Tony pictures a flying Nebula and decides that the image alone is terrifying enough. “I don’t know, sweetpea. We’ll see. What do you think of the tree house?” 

“It’s great, Daddy,” Morgan smiles brightly at him, adding sunglasses to the sun that she’s drawn on the paper. She looks at the sun critically, before giving it a broad smile with a blue crayon, and then a familiar goatee around the mouth. “Look, it’s you!” 

“You have captured my very essence,” Tony bends down and presses a kiss to the top of Morgan’s head. “I’m glad you liked it. I’m gonna go get Mommy. Are we allowed to watch a movie downstairs? This is your crib, and all. I don’t want to intrude.” 

“Yes,” Morgan decides, “You guys can watch Nemo.” 

“I love Nemo,” Tony grins, descending the stairs, eager to get Pepper in here and show her around the place. 

“No being loud!” Morgan calls down the stairs, sounding very much like her mother, and Tony chuckles as he steps out of the tree house and onto the grass he’d mowed just that morning. _So, she wants a suit. That’s terrifying. But hey, I’ve given her til she’s sixteen. Maybe she’ll forget about it by then._ He looks up at the lake house, imaging Pepper’s horror and fear were she to discover Morgan’s new interest. _God, please let her forget about it by then._

* * *

 

Sweat trickles down his temple, dips down the curve of his jaw, leaves a damp trail down his neck, and is finally absorbed by the starched white collar of his dress shirt. Upon seeing him dressed in something other than sweatpants, jeans, or a pair of overalls, Pepper had been intrigued to know where he was going. An appointment, he had told her, watching the confusion spread over her features. She had even gone to the calendar hung up in the kitchen, looking to see if she had mixed up the day of his upcoming cardiologist appointment. It baffled her, how could they both manage to schedule an appointment on his birthday without noticing? Tony had pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, assured her that it was no big deal, and that he would be back before dinner. _Don’t eat all of my cake, Potts._

At this rate, he’s so late to the appointment that he wouldn’t be surprised if they cancelled it and charged him for being a no-show. He can’t seem to move, his body had frozen the moment he had turned the engine off. The seatbelt chafes against his neck, but he can’t quite move his fingers to pull it away from his skin, let alone undo it. He had gone through a similar appointment, many years ago, shortly after his captivity in Afghanistan. It had been arduous, mind-numbingly boring, and profoundly upsetting. Back then, leaving everything he owned on this planet to Virginia Elizabeth Potts had been the easiest solution – he’d never told her that he had saddled her with his legacy in 2008, back when she was just his personal assistant… His personal assistant who very nearly kissed him that night on the balcony...Tony’s fingers tighten their grip on the steering wheel, wanting to snap himself out of that memory. _This isn’t the time to think of happy things. I have to go in there, and revise my will. Easy peasy. I’ll be out of here in an hour or two, and I can pick up ice cream on the way home, and eat the whole tub sitting on the couch beside Pepper tonight. And have some birthday cake, too… All I have to do is unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car._

The muscles of his forearm twitch under the fabric of his sleeve, and he almost manages to pull his right hand away from the steering wheel, his fingers unfurling ever so slightly. But then the doubt creeps back in, the pervasive dark thoughts that had been plaguing him in the night, upon his frantic surfacing from dreams of Peter Parker’s death. Except, Pepper now joins Peter, and Morgan – Rhodey, Natasha, Nebula – even Steve. All fading into dust, leaving Tony in the dark, entirely alone. These dreams of death forced him to pick up the phone, dialing a number that he had to flip through a very old notebook kept in his workshop to find. Even Pepper was unaware of this particular legal team, and she knew almost every legal battle Stark Industries (and Tony Stark) had been involved in. This is a battle he has to fight alone – _if I can just get out of the goddamn car._  

Tony takes a deep breath, grimacing at a jab of pain in his chest. _Just an impending panic attack. Deep breaths, again._ He closes his eyes against the afternoon sun, wishing he’d at least left the car on for the air conditioning, but he hadn’t expected himself to freeze up over something so simple. _It’s not simple. But it’s okay. Deep breaths. Alright – alright. You’ve got ten toes._ In his shining leather dress shoes, his toes curl against his socks. _See, ten toes. Ten fingers._ His fingers flex against the steering wheel. _Two legs._ His calves flex. _Two arms. Everything is accounted for. You’re going to be okay. Just get out of the goddamn car before you bake in here._ Tony’s eyes open, his hands falling away from the steering wheel – and before his brain can realize its mistake, he unbuckles his seatbelt and throws open the car door. 

There’s a cool breeze outside, and it floods into the hot car, brushing over the beads of sweat on his forehead. That relief is enough for Tony to get his legs out of the car, his shoes crunching against the asphalt. It takes a little more effort to get him standing, his trembling hand reaching out and grasping at the edge of the car door, hauling himself to his feet. _There. I’ve done it._ He reaches behind him, fingers brushing against his back, feeling the damp fabric of his shirt sticking to his skin. _That won’t do._ He stoops down, grabbing his suit jacket from the passenger seat, shutting the car door once he’s clear of it. Tony shrugs into the jacket, thankful to have another layer, one that will protect him from prying eyes – prying eyes that will see his sweating body, his shaking hands… He shoves his hands into his pockets, the car beeping quietly behind him, locks clicking into place while he ascends the steps of the building that houses his lawyer’s office. Tony pulls out a pair of sunglasses from his pocket, sliding them over his face. The world is instantly awash in a light blue tint, and he relaxes – another layer, another brick added to the façade.

Swanson & Horn, Attorneys at Law. Tony’s fingers brush over the raised metal letters to the right of the door, he had done the same years ago. _Luck._

“Mr. Stark,” the receptionist greets him warmly, which is not a reaction he’s used to getting these days. “I gave you a call a few minutes ago, we were worried…”

“I must have left my phone at home,” Tony lies, the phone feeling ten pounds heavier in his pocket. He hadn’t even felt the vibration, in truth, all he could feel fifteen minutes ago was the pounding of his heart. He had looked at himself in the rear view mirror, and had seen his pulse beating wildly in his neck. Even now, he can feel it, can see in his peripheral vision the fabric of his shirt over his heart bouncing almost imperceptibly to its frantic beat. “Look, I’m really sorry that I’m so late. I understand if they’ve moved on to another appointment. It’s honestly been years since I’ve been in the city…” Bizarre, but true, for a man whose life had been so entrenched in Manhattan, his escape to upstate had left him with no desire to venture much further than Syracuse. “I got a bit turned around…” 

“It’s not a problem, Mr. Stark.” The receptionist stands from his desk, walking over to the small table where there’s a Keurig and a few bottles of water. He glances over at Tony, sees his flushed face, and selects the bottle of water. Tony accepts it with a grateful nod, twisting off the cap. “They’re waiting for you in the conference room. Shall I bring you to them or do you need a few minutes?”

_Oh, that’s tempting._ If he had them wait, it would give him an opportunity to call the whole thing off… Which is why he shakes his head, the bottle crunching in his grip. 

“No, I’d like to get it out of the way. My kid’s waiting for me to get home so we can have some cake.”

“Oh…” The receptionist glances over his shoulder at Tony with a perturbed look as he leads him down the hall to the conference room. “You chose to revise your will on your… birthday?” 

“Yep,” Tony says with false cheeriness, stepping into the conference room. He shakes hands with the two lawyers – Swanson, grey haired and serious, Horn, young and goofy looking with glasses that seem too big for his face. “Gentlemen. Thanks for waiting for me.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Stark. You’re one of our top clients,” Swanson says, his words clipped, voice soft. _The kind of voice a funeral director would have. Fitting, I guess._

“Can I get you anything, Tony? I see we’ve hooked you up with a bottle of water,” Horn gestures to the crushed bottle in Tony’s other hand. “We can get you another one.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks. I guess I just want to get started.” Tony takes a seat in the comfortable leather chair across the table from the two lawyers, glancing down at the polished surface of the table to see a thick folder chock full of paperwork in front of Swanson. “Damn, it really is a beast when you have it printed out like that.”

Swanson doesn’t smile, Horn does. _Tough crowd._

“Do you have a mind of what you’d like to change exactly, Mr. Stark?” The older lawyer snaps the folder open, removing the thick stack of paperwork and placing it in front of Tony with a thud. Horn pops the cap off of his pen, looking at Tony expectantly, his hand hovering over his notepad. 

“Uh, there’s really not much – it’s just a few small things.” Tony flips through the stacks of pages detailing what to do with his vested interests in Stark Industries, his many estates, foundations… “Like, this stuff. It’s all to Pepper, and that can stay the same…” A sizeable stack of pages is set aside, the bare bones of his personal life now displayed before him on three pieces of paper. “I don’t know if you gentlemen heard, but I had a kid…”

“Congratulations -.”

“That’s great! Boy or girl?” Horn’s enthused interjection is met with a venomous look from his counterpart. _It’s a good thing I don’t hire these guys for personality._

“A girl, actually. Morgan – she’s great. But there are some things I want to leave to her directly. All of my dad’s stuff, I know I originally had it planned to be donated to a couple science museums… But she’s smart, I think she might be able to get some use out of it… And if she doesn’t, I’m sure she’ll donate it. She never met him,” Tony grins, “So she’s not as biased against him as I am. And I definitely want to leave her my mother’s piano. She’s starting lessons next month…” Tony reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a piece of paper that he’s miraculously managed not to wrinkle in his struggle getting to this appointment. “This has updated figures for you guys to leave to Morgan.”

Horn scans over the document while Tony’s index finger trails down the last few lines of his will. “Yeah, this can stay the same – splitting the car collection between Harold Hogan and James Rhodes – God, I must’ve been in a good mood the last time we sat down and went through all this…” _And if we don’t get them back, if Happy really is dead… Surprise, Rhodey… You now have a car army._ “There is one more thing I want to add. It’s at the bottom of that page.”

Swanson reaches out and snatches the document from Horn, the other man looking offended, before sighing and picking up his pen once again.

“There’s a lot of tech that I want to leave to Peter Parker. Can I do that?”

“Sure, Tony, as long as he’s not dead,” Horn says with a grin.

“He’s not dead,” Tony snaps, fury flashing in his brown eyes. The grin is wiped off of the younger lawyer’s face in an instant. Tony’s hand raises from under the table, knocking his sunglasses off of his face and onto the table, his hand covering his eyes. He takes a deep breath. “God, I’m sorry. It’s just been a stressful day. I’m sorry, Elijah,” he lowers his hand, shooting Horn an apologetic look. “He’s not dead, though.” _Just gone._ “But he’s one of the smartest kids I know. That lists all the tech I want to leave him. And, of course, I want him to have lifelong access to the research and development department of Stark Industries. I don’t think Pepper would deny him that, but just in case, I want it outlined…” 

Horn scribbles away on his notepad, Swanson frowns. “And the items you were leaving to Harley Keener?” 

“Those can still go to him,” Tony picks up his sunglasses from the table, carefully placing them back on his face. “That’s really it, gentlemen. I told you it would be quick.” _What really matters in my life only fits onto three pieces of paper. That’s shit._  

“We can draft something right now, Mr. Stark, so that you can sign it… If that’s amenable to you?”

Tony looks over the other man’s shoulder, trying to judge the time based off of the amount of sunlight seeping in from the window behind Swanson. _I can be late to my own birthday party. This is more important._ “Yeah, I can wait. I’ll just sit here… No rush.”

The two men excuse themselves, hurrying off to their offices to get something down on paper while they have Tony held captive. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. He raises it to his ear, Pepper’s picture lighting up the screen. 

“Tony? Are you okay?” Pepper sounds worried, her voice thin.  _She probably thinks I’ve been in a car accident, or my doctor’s just told me that I’m dying._ Tony reaches up with his free hand, pressing two fingers just below his jaw, his pulse thrumming against his fingertips. _God, maybe I am._

“I’m fine, Pep. I just wanted to call you to let you know that this is running a little longer than I expected. I didn’t want you and Morgan sitting there waiting for me. I’ll be home in…” He glances at his watch, frowning. “Realistically, probably 6 hours. What does that put us at, almost 9?”

“Yeah…” The worry hasn’t faded from her voice. “Morgan will want to stay up. She really wants to celebrate with you.”

“I guess we can make a bedtime exception just this once, right? I’ll be home as fast as I can – safely, I promise.” 

“What is your appointment for, Tony?” _She thinks I’m lying to her. Do I sound drunk? I don’t think I sound drunk. God, she probably thinks I’ve gone on a bender because it’s my birthday._

“It’s just legal stuff, Pep. Had a few hiccups this past week with some of my investments. They needed me to come in pretty urgently, though. Wish I could have done it over the phone, these long drives are a lot less enjoyable than they used to be.”

Pepper is quiet, Tony closes his eyes and imagines her as a robot, scanning over each of his words in search of a lie. _Not a lie to be found, Pep. This technically is legal stuff, and it does technically have to do with some of my investments… And it was pretty urgent._ Why is it urgent? Tony doesn’t quite know – something about these dreams has thrown him for a loop. Something about these dreams makes him think that the peace they’ve had these past four years will soon come to an end. _A bloody end._

“You’ll drive safely?” Pepper asks him quietly, needing reassurance that he won’t try to kill himself hurtling down the highway in a desperate attempt to get home before their daughter has gone to bed. 

“I promise I will. I’ll go at most five over.”  

“Alright. I love you, Tony.” 

“I love you too, Pep. I’ll be home soon.”

“Is that Daddy?” Morgan’s voice bellows into the phone, Tony wincing and moving it away from his ear for a moment. “Hi Daddy! Happy birthday! I love you! I want some cake!”

Tony laughs, rubbing at his chin slowly. “You can give her some cake if you want, Pep. I don’t mind. Tell her I love her too. I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Alright, Tony. Drive safe.”

“I will.” He hangs up, placing his phone on the table. It would have been easier that morning to have put on the reactor, to have flown to the city. It would have taken less time, too. _But I can’t do that anymore. Iron Man in the sky is just a reminder to people of what caused their lives to change forever. I don’t have the right to just fly through the sky for that long of a trip anymore, anyways._ He’d have to clear it with the Department of Defense, and then they would need to clear it with the United Nations. Before Morgan, Tony would have spat in the face of all of them and flown to the city without a care in the world. But now he has other things to think about, and causing a national crisis just because he wanted to get to his appointment in an hour instead of four isn’t worth it anymore. 

“Mr. Stark?” The lawyers have returned, Swanson holding an even thicker copy of his new-and-improved will. “We just need you to sign it, and then we’ll witness it and Crawford will notarize it.” Their receptionist stands behind them, holding up his notary stamp on cue.

“Sure, fellas.” Tony pushes the old copy of his will aside, flipping through the new one as it is placed in front of him. The important three final pages have turned into five final pages, Tony skims over them quickly to make sure that everything he had outlined for Morgan and Peter is in place. Satisfied, he takes the pen offered to him and signs his name with a flourish at the bottom of the final page. _Sound of body, maybe. Sound of mind? Definitely not._

Swanson and Horn add their signatures, and the stamp thumps against the page. _The last will and testament of Anthony Edward Stark. What a waste of paper._

“Thanks again, you two.” Tony shakes each man’s hand in turn, following the receptionist out of the conference room.

Tony turns the handle of the front door, ready to step out into the world and get home as soon as he can. _Have to put this all behind me._   

“Happy birthday, Mr. Stark,” the receptionist says uncertainly behind him.

“Hey, thanks Bill. Kinda feels like it might be my last one.”

The other man blinks, not prepared for such a morbid response. “I’m sure that’s not true, Mr. Stark. We need you, you know? We need Iron Man.”

Tony smiles, it has been a long time since someone has spoken of Iron Man in such a positive fashion. “I wish you were right.” The door to the law office shuts behind Tony Stark – and he never steps back inside of it again.


	14. Chapter 14

“Daddy.” A small hand grabs at his shoulder in the dark, shaking him urgently. “Daddy wake up. Wake up.”

“Mm, Morgan?” Tony’s eyes blink open slowly, turning his head to the side, reaching up with his right hand to cover hers where it rests on his shoulder. “What’re you doing up?” His words are sleepy and slow, figuring this must be a dream.

“Daddy, I don’t feel so good,” Morgan tells him tearfully, her voice strained.

_No._ Tony gets out of bed so fast that his head spins, falling to his knees in front of Morgan so that he can wrap her in the tightest hug – as if the pressure of his arms will keep her from fading away. _No, this can’t be happening._

His hug is met with an ear-piercing scream from Morgan, “Mommy!”

Pepper sits upright on the bed, reaching out and turning on the lights, her green eyes frantic. “Morgan – Tony – Morgan, what’s wrong?”

“Mommy, Daddy’s scaring me…” Morgan sobs in his arms, trying to pull away from him. “It hurts, Daddy, you’ve gotta let go.”

_I can’t. I can’t lose you, Morgan._

“Tony,” Pepper’s fingers pry under his hands, her teeth grit with the effort of pulling his arms away from Morgan. “You’ve got to let go of her, Tony.” 

Tony’s eyes are shut firmly, sweat trickling down his back, his arrhythmic heart struggling, each skipped beat making him feel sick. Pepper takes a deep breath and shoves him back, there’s no time for her to apologize, she kneels in front of their sobbing daughter and desperately tries to figure out what’s wrong.

“Morgan, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Morgan’s hands grab at her own abdomen, gasping for breath between sobs. Pepper places her hand against her daughter’s forehead and gasps at the heat radiating off of the girl’s skin.

“God, Tony – it might be her appendix.”

Tony is sprawled out on the floor, looking at them but not really seeing them, his eyes far off – he’s on Titan, and he’s alone. 

“Tony!” Pepper reaches out and slaps him on the shoulder with all her strength. “Tony, this is an emergency. We need to go to the hospital, now. She’s going to be alright, Tony, but I need your help.”

Tony blinks, shaking his head like he has water stuck in his ears. He blinks again, and then looks at Morgan, who is sobbing in her mother’s arms. Sobbing, but still whole. Not a speck of ash in sight.

“Fuck.” Tony gets to his feet, his shoulder smarting, his heart beating faster. “Oh my God, did I hurt her? Christ, Pepper – she said -.”

Pepper lifts Morgan into her arms, and Morgan wails, burying her face against Pepper’s pajama top and darkening the fabric with her tears. “Tony, go get some clothes from Morgan’s room, and her blanket. A stuffed animal. I’m going to go get her to the car. We need to go to the hospital now.” 

Tony stumbles out of the bedroom in his pajamas, hurrying to Morgan’s room to gather a few things. _Oh God, what if I hurt her from holding her too tightly? I just wanted to keep her here. I don’t feel so good. Fuck, I thought…_ Tony grabs the soft blue blanket beside Morgan’s pillow, her baby blanket that she can’t sleep without. The raggedy stuffed sheep is shoved under his arm, he blindly pulls out some pants and a shirt for Morgan, and runs down the stairs to the front door. 

Pepper is behind the wheel, her fingers gripping it so tightly that her knuckles are bright white in the orange glow of the car’s interior lights. 

Tony gets in the back beside Morgan’s car seat, wanting to be able to comfort her so that Pepper can focus on driving.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Tony murmurs, wiping at Morgan’s sweaty forehead with the hem of his shirt, his bare feet resting against the floor mat of the car. “It’s going to be okay – we’re gonna get you to the hospital right now.”

“Hospital?” Morgan sounds terrified, her hand reaching out and grasping at Tony’s forearm, little fingernails cutting half-moons into his skin.

“Mommy and I are going to be right there with you. They’re gonna take care of you, okay? I promise that nothing bad’s gonna happen.” He brushes her hair out of her eyes, wiping her tears away with the pads of his thumbs, but they just keep streaming. 

Pepper gets them there in one piece, which is a miracle considering the way Morgan’s cries affect her. She tosses a pair of slippers to Tony as she turns off the car, and he shoves them on his feet – _How the hell does Pepper keep it all together? How the hell did she think of that?_ Tony carefully dislodges Morgan from her car seat, she’s ablaze in his arms with fever, her arm dangling against his, stuffed sheep barely held in her grasp.

They are ushered past the sign in desk the moment Pepper tells the nurse that she thinks that Morgan has appendicitis. Morgan looks tiny when she is placed on the bed of the triage room, the thin protective paper crinkling under her as she shifts, grabbing Tony’s hand to keep him from pulling away.

“Morgan?” A young doctor enters the room, a stuffed cat peeking out from the pocket of her white coat. She moves to take Morgan’s other hand, Pepper is stood beside Tony, he can feel her trembling as she grabs at his bicep and holds tight.

“Morgan, I’m Dr. O’Neil. I have to take a look at your belly, okay?” The doctor carefully rucks up Morgan’s shirt – her favorite pair of pajamas, decorated with dinosaurs – Tony could weep. 

Morgan cries out at the faintest palpation of her abdomen, her grip on Tony’s hand bruising. Dr. O’Neil instantly pulls her hand away, nodding as the nurse hurries off to get the ultrasound. 

“Okay, Morgan.” Dr. O’Neil squats beside the bed, eye-level with Morgan as she squirms on the bed. “You have a little pouch in your tummy, and it’s become swollen, so we have to take it out. You’re not going to feel a thing, you’ll be asleep the whole time – and when you wake up, your Mommy and Daddy are going to be right there next to you.” 

Morgan looks at the stuffed cat dangling from the pocket of Dr. O’Neil’s coat, reaching out to touch it hesitantly. “Will it hurt?” 

“No, I promise it won’t hurt. Here.” The doctor pulls the little stuffed orange animal from her pocket, placing it on Morgan’s chest. _Wouldn’t you know it – Slinky’s come along for the ride._ “You hold on to my cat, he can be with you during the surgery. I’m going to put some gel on your tummy now, it’ll be cold, and it might hurt when I press down on it, but I will be as quick as I can.”

Morgan looks miserable, and Tony reaches up to find tears on his own cheeks. He wipes them away roughly, wishing it were him on the bed and not Morgan. _Never Morgan. You were never supposed to get hurt._

Pepper has to look away when the nurse slots an IV into Morgan’s elbow, though Tony is thankful that Morgan is so distracted by the cat on her chest and the ultrasound wand swiping over her abdomen that she doesn’t even notice the prick of the needle.

The doctor looks at the ultrasound monitor critically, before looking over at Tony and Pepper with a reassuring smile. “Good news, Mom and Dad, her appendix hasn’t ruptured. I can do this procedure laparoscopically, you’ll probably be able to go home tomorrow evening. Maybe even earlier.”

Tony clears his throat, swallowing down what feels like razor blades. _At least I don’t feel like I’m going to puke._ There were a few moments there, as they stumbled into the brightly lit emergency room, when Tony was sure he was going to throw up anything and everything he had in his stomach. “Are you – now?” 

“Yes, we need to do the surgery now, waiting is dangerous. We’re going to give your daughter a sedative, and then prep her for surgery. You both can stay with her up until we take her to the operating room.”

A nurse is standing beside Pepper, appearing instantly like some dour ghost. “What has she had to eat in the last twelve hours?" 

Pepper looks at her blankly, her grasp on Tony’s arm tightening. “Um – macaroni and cheese for dinner… Some broccoli…” Pepper starts to tear up, “Tony, what else did she have? I don’t remember, I can’t…” 

“Juice pops,” Tony supplies. “She had like… 8 juice pops before bed. Could that have -?” _God, it’s my fault. I should have stopped her at two._

“No, Mr. Stark,” Dr. O’Neil reassures him, making note of what Morgan ate in her chart. “We don’t know why the appendix does this, but I can tell you for sure that it wasn’t because she ate too many juice pops.”

“Daddy,” Morgan’s voice is hoarse, raw from crying, and Tony can hardly hear her. He and Pepper kneel down beside the bed, Tony grasping at the plastic guardrails of it for support. 

“I’m here, honey. Mommy and I are here.” Tony glances up at the IV stand, watching the nurse as she begins to administer a sedative. _At least she’ll be calm, right? If she cries when she goes back to surgery, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it._  

“I’m scared.”

Pepper muffles her sob against Tony’s shoulder, her fingers digging into his skin, her anguish palpable.

“I’m scared too,” Tony admits, reaching though the rail to take Morgan’s hand in his. “It’s late, and you’re in a new place – and your tummy hurts. I know. I’m sorry, baby.” His other arm wraps around Pepper, squeezing her comfortingly, her tears soaking his shirt. “You’re gonna wake up, and you’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna have so much ice cream after this, I promise. Whatever you want, Morgan.” 

“Another kitty,” Morgan tells him sleepily, her words slurred together. Tony shifts so that he can kiss her forehead, still hot with fever.

“Another kitty, absolutely.”

* * *

 

“Peter said the same thing to me before he – before he died.”

Pepper stirs from where she’s resting against him, her head on his shoulder – she’s not sleeping, both of them are too anxious to sleep and the lights in the waiting room are far too bright to allow much more than a long blink.

“So, I thought…” Tony closes his eyes, inhaling slowly, the air laden with the scent of disinfectant. _I hate hospitals._ “I thought that the same thing was happening to Morgan. I don’t feel so good, he said. Like he could **feel** it, that he was dying. That parts of him were already slipping away, his cells desiccating… I don’t know. But when Morgan said that, God, Pepper. I thought it was happening all over again. So I panicked, and I frightened her. But I couldn’t… If I let her go, I thought that she would disappear.” 

“I don’t know what we would do if that happened,” Pepper says quietly, taking his hand in hers. Her fingers brush gently over the scars her stitches had left behind. “But it didn’t happen, Tony. It was just her appendix – scary as hell, and I never want something like that to happen to her again, but…” 

“What do you think people are doing? The people who lost their children when…” Tony trails off, he had seen what had happened to one father the very same night he had gotten these scars. _But maybe that was an outlier – maybe, maybe people are finding better ways of coping? Are there better ways of coping? Or do they all just blame me? And now I’m sitting here, waiting for my kid to come out of surgery. My **living** kid. _

Pepper shrugs, “I don’t know the answer to that Tony. I don’t think anyone can move on from that. It would be wishful thinking for me to tell you anything other than that.”

_Yeah, it sure would, Pep. You’re gonna change the subject soon, I can tell – because you know what I’m thinking. That I don’t deserve this – because I don’t. I’m sitting here, waiting, and I know my kid is gonna come out of this just fine. But there are people sitting at home, waiting for their children who disappeared before their eyes to come back. And it’s been almost five years – when do we draw the line? When do I stop indulging myself in this play-pretend fantasy of family life I’ve allowed myself to hibernate in and when do I start really looking for a solution?_ Tony’s hand squeezes Pepper’s gently, looking at the ring glittering on her finger. _Is this my selfish desire to be a superhero rearing its head again, or do I actually owe the world my life, if it comes to that?_

Tony catches glimpse of movement down the hall, sees blue scrubs billowing in the artificial breeze of the air-conditioning – Dr. O’Neil, done with surgery and hurrying over to give Morgan’s anxious parents an update. Tony’s stomach becomes leaden with despair, not because Dr. O’Neil is smiling at them, but because he already knows the answer to the question he just posed himself. _There’s a reason I updated my will._  

“It went great,” the pediatric surgeon takes a seat across from them, keeping open body language. “We were lucky to have operated on it when we did, otherwise Morgan would’ve been in for a much longer hospital stay – but I bet you’ll be out before the day is done. She’s in recovery now, and normally we wouldn’t allow you guys to see her until we move her to a regular room, but it’s a slow night and I’m friends with the nurses. Would you like to see her?” 

“Yes,” Pepper is already standing, tugging Tony to his feet before he can think to move. They follow after the doctor quietly, moving through brightly lit hallways and passing by rooms silently occupied by sleeping patients. The cold air makes Tony shiver, and he tucks his free hand into his pocket, a futile attempt at warming himself up. _Why do they keep hospitals so cold? It’s like a fucking morgue in here._  

Morgan seems tinier than ever, still fast asleep and huddled under a few blankets on her hospital bed. Tony’s eyes flick over to the vitals monitor beside her bed, he’d spent enough time in a hospital bed of his own to know what those numbers should look like coming out of surgery.

“I think she’ll wake up in just a few minutes. She’ll be a little woozy,” Dr. O’Neil says quietly, moving two chairs over to Morgan’s bedside for Pepper and Tony. _This woman deserves a raise. Maybe I’ll make an anonymous donation to the pediatric surgery unit. Yeah, I will do that._ “And we have her on some pain medication – just a tiny amount, she’s little.”

Pepper’s fingers brush anxiously over the quilted fabric of the blanket covering Morgan, taking a seat beside her bed. She places her purse on her lap, digging through it for a moment before pulling out Morgan’s baby blanket. Gently, she places it over Morgan, tucking her stuffed sheep beside the stuffed cat that is still grasped in her hand. 

“Thank you,” Tony’s voice is thick, and he clears his throat as he reaches to shake Dr. O’Neil’s hand. “Thank you so much.” 

“Of course, Mr. Stark.” The doctor smiles at him brightly, “You have a very brave little girl.”

“Yeah, we do…” Tony sits down beside Morgan’s bed, watching Pepper as she gently strokes Morgan’s hair, her green eyes focused on their daughter, searching for any signs of her waking up – willing her to wake up. 

_Do I owe it to Morgan to make the world normal again? Even if I never get to see her again because of it? I’m getting older, I can’t deny that anymore. Iron Man can’t be a geriatric… And the last couple of times in the suit…_ It absorbs most of the damage, it always has, but most isn’t all – and Tony wakes up each morning with aches and pains, muscles he had once torn reminding him that they still haven’t forgiven him. And his heart – were it not for the intervention of his cardiologist, he would have killed himself years ago, assuming each twinge of pain in his chest was just phantom pain from the torturous installation of his arc reactor over a decade ago. 

“Mommy?” Morgan’s voice is hoarse, but her eyes are open, and her hand reaches up to stroke Pepper’s face slowly. 

“Oh, Morgan,” Pepper exhales, her hand reaching up to rest over their daughter’s on her cheek. “Hi, baby girl. How do you feel?” 

Tony gets up out of the chair, moving over to stand beside Pepper, watching Morgan as she slowly becomes more aware of her surroundings.

“Tired,” Morgan sighs, reaching out and grabbing at the edge of her blanket, pulling it up closer to her face. “Cold.”

Tony is sure this goes against hospital protocol, and the minute he gets told off by a nurse, he’ll stop – but for now, he carefully climbs up onto the bed beside Morgan, resting his arm beneath her head. Morgan snuggles against his side, her hand curling against his chest.

“Better?” 

Morgan hums in response, and Tony can feel her shivering against him, but after a few moments her chills seem to fade. 

“You’re totally going to get into trouble for that,” Pepper warns him, but her expression is warm, carefully moving one of Morgan’s IVs out of the way, not wanting Tony to accidentally pull it. 

“Well, she was cold,” Tony replies, his fingers stroking through Morgan’s hair slowly. “Does anything hurt, Morgie?”

Morgan shakes her head against Tony’s chest, yawning slowly. “Time for breakfast?”

Tony laughs, trust his daughter to wake up from anesthesia with pancakes and waffles on her mind. “Once they move you to your room, baby, you can have all the breakfast you want. What are you in the mood for?”

“Pancakes… some juice…” 

“I think that can be arranged,” Pepper says, nudging Tony when she sees a nurse walking towards them. “Better come up with a good story, Tony.” 

The nurse only has to glance at him to recognize him, picking up Morgan’s chart. “Mr. Stark, you do know that what you’re doing is not allowed, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am, but she was cold.” Morgan’s fingers curl against his pajama shirt, watching the exchange between Tony and the nurse like the final game of a tennis match.

“Be that as it may…” The nurse looks at Morgan, noticing the way she’s clutching to her father, not wanting him to go. “You’ll have to get off the bed when we move her.” 

“Absolutely, I will. I’ll help push.”

The nurse shakes her head, pulling a laminated sheet of paper from a folder at the end of the bed. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Stark. Morgan, honey, I’m going to show you a picture, okay? You point to the one that you feel like right now.” She holds up the paper, and Tony raises an eyebrow at the several smiley faces printed on it, ranging from screaming in agony to grinning goofily. Morgan raises her hand, finger hovering over her options, and chooses the face that is smiling normally – not quite ecstatic, but nowhere near the painful end of the scale. _I’ll take it._  

Morgan dozes against him for a half an hour more before the recovery staff decide she’s on decent enough form to be moved to her own room. Morgan grabs at Tony’s shirt tightly, using all her strength in an attempt to keep him in bed beside her.

“Hey, honey, I have to get up. I’ll walk right next to you, okay? And when we get to your room, you can have both Mommy and me in there next to you. But you have to let go, sweetheart.”

Morgan tears up, but does as she’s told. Tony quickly hops off the bed as the transport staff start to push it, Pepper grabbing one of Morgan’s hands and Tony grabbing the other.

“See, you’re okay, baby. We’re just going down the elevator to your room, that’s all.”

“It’s not my room,” Morgan sniffles, “My room is purple.” 

“Well, how do you know this room won’t be purple?” 

She looks over at her father, frowning. “This is a hospital, Daddy.” 

Pepper laughs quietly, “She’s got you there, Tony. When’s the last time you were in a purple hospital room?” 

_Maybe that should be a stipulation on my donation… No, not a stipulation, but a suggestion. Kids like color._

Morgan’s hospital room is not purple, but it is private, and has its own television. The sun starts to rise out the window, and Tony moves over to it to pull the blinds half closed, in case Morgan wants to get some sleep. _In case I want to get some sleep, more like. Pep and I are gonna feel hungover tomorrow. Today? Tomorrow._

Pepper speaks to a nurse to get Morgan some breakfast while Tony makes the room more comfortable, and Morgan is grinning when both of her parents get into bed beside her.

“Milk it while you can, honey,” Tony suggests, picking up the remote for the TV. “Want to watch something?”

Morgan glances over at Pepper hesitantly, her hands idly playing with the small stuffed cat. “Maybe Spongebob?”

“Your mother hates Spongebob,” Tony says as he flicks through the channels, but Morgan is not to blame for Pepper’s dislike of the cartoon. There were only so many shrill imitations of the main character that she could take from Tony before it was banned in their house. It was banned before Morgan had even been born.

“I could make an exception,” Pepper sounds happy, but hidden from Morgan’s peripheral vision, she reaches over and smacks Tony on the back of his head with enough force that it stings. _Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said that._

“Ooh, Daddy, what’s that?”

Tony glances up at the screen, squinting. “A Disney movie, I think – Pep, you know the princesses better than I do…”

“Oh, I love this one,” Pepper says happily, “It’s The Princess and the Frog.” 

“Ew, frogs,” Morgan murmurs, but is immediately enraptured. 

They spend the rest of the day snuggled up together on the hospital bed, Morgan occasionally allowing her parents to steal bites from her meals. By the time she is tucked into bed in her own purple bedroom, Tony and Pepper are dead on their feet. They stagger off to their own bedroom, bumping into each other and giggling almost giddily.

Tony groans as he lands face-first onto the mattress, pulling off the pajamas he’d been wearing since the night before and burrowing under the duvet. Pepper soon joins him under the covers, wrapping her arms around him. 

“Hey, Pep,” Tony says sleepily, wanting to catch her before she’s out for good. 

“Mmm.” Pepper murmurs against his chest. 

“You’re a great mom. Morgan’s lucky to have you.”

She smiles, squeezing him gently. “Love you, Tony.” 

“Love you too.”

* * *

 

It’s the fifth anniversary of the decimation, but the stars in the night sky are bright, and the temperature is perfect – the only indication of the significance of the day would be found on the television in the Stark family’s home, and it has been turned off since the day before. Morgan sprints out of the quiet lake house with a whicker basket held tightly in both hands, Tony chasing after her with a baguette raised above his head like a sword.  

“Wait, Morgan!”

Morgan laughs, running even faster once her feet meet the grass. She shrieks when Tony scoops her up into his arms after a few moments chase, nearly dropping the basket in her surprise.

“God, you’re fast,” Tony pants, setting her back down on the ground. “You forgot the bread.” He opens up the top of the basket, sticking the baguette into it. “There, now you’re all set. Mommy’s coming with the rest of it. You and I are supposed to pick a good spot. Where do you think, down by the lake, or more over by the woods?”

Morgan looks around thoughtfully, grabbing him by the belt loop and tugging him across the yard. “I wanna see the stars.” 

_So did I._

“Well, down by the lake we’d get a pretty clear view.”

Morgan shakes her head, “Wouldn’t be comfy. The rocks. Grass is soft.” She plants him square in the yard, the chicken coop still in sight, but thankfully quiet – as if the chickens knew that the Stark family wanted a peaceful evening. “Here.” 

“As you command, my queen,” Tony bows low, opening the basket and spreading the thick picnic blanket over the grass. “Do you have the lamp?”

“I put it in the basket,” Morgan rustles through it, throwing the baguette onto the blanket to get it out of the way. She pulls out a camping lamp, heaving it up with a grunt. 

“Yeah, that’s a good ten pounds,” Tony grins as he takes the lamp from her, flicking it on and placing it on the corner of the basket. “You’re getting a decent workout tonight, honey. First an Olympic level sprint, and then strongman weight lifting…”

Morgan sits beside the basket, pulling out the bits and bobs that comprise their dinner – more lunch appropriate food than dinner food, if someone were to ask Tony, but they were keeping it simple tonight. The more time spent out of the house and away from a mourning universe, the better.

“Can I have some?” Morgan holds up the Tupperware containing slices of the chocolate cake she and Pepper had made that morning.

“Nope, you have to have dinner first,” Tony says, looking over his shoulder back at the house to see Pepper Potts making her way towards them. “Mommy would kill me if I let you.”

“No she wouldn’t,” Morgan argues, wrestling with the tight lid of the Tupperware, frowning when Tony reaches out to take the cake away.

“What wouldn’t I do?” Pepper tosses a pillow to Tony, doing her best not to laugh when it hits him in the face, his hands rising up too late to catch it. 

“I think that proves it,” Tony says to Morgan, lifting her up and placing a pillow under her to sit on. “Your mother just tried to break my neck. Did you see how fast she threw that pillow? With all her strength, too…”

“Mommy plays catch with me,” Morgan nods, “She throws better.”

“I have no doubt.” Tony grins over at Pepper, grabbing one of the plates from the basket so that he can set up Morgan’s dinner. “You’ve gotta eat mostly everything that I put on your plate before you can have dessert, okay?” 

He extends his hand to Morgan, watching as his daughter thinks over the agreement, before extending her own hand to shake Tony’s.

“Deal,” Morgan sighs, watching with silent horror as Tony piles carrot after carrot onto her plate, alongside a sandwich stuffed with deli meat and cheese.

“You can’t make that face, either,” Tony says as he places the plate in front of her. “I watched what you ate today, a lunch of Goldfish, I believe?”

Morgan bites into the carrot with a loud crunch, not deigning him with a reply.

“You let her have just Goldfish for lunch?” Pepper shakes her head, sighing as Tony moves her hand away from the baguette, wanting to make his wife’s dinner for her. “Where was I?” 

“You were icing the cake and decorating it. You were very focused, so we didn’t want to disturb you or get in your way – which only gave us access to the pantry…” 

Pepper smiles slightly, accepting the plate from Tony. “Thanks, honey.” 

“No, thank you, Ms. Potts,” Tony says around a mouthful of baguette. “This is quite a spread.”

They eat their dinner in comfortable silence, Morgan being the last of the three to clear her plate, sliding the last carrot over to Tony to finish – which he does.

Pepper and Morgan had spent almost an hour that morning separating their massive bag of M&Ms by color, and Tony had received a sharp smack to the back of the hand when he had attempted to grab a few red ones. Every color counts, Morgan had told him seriously, wielding the spatula again when he went to pinch a few yellow ones. Tony had slunk off out of the kitchen like a dog with its tail between its legs, returning to the corner of the living room where he had been toying with “solutions” for the past month or so. Always the same result – failure. Always the same wishful thinking – that he could go back in time and destroy the stones before they could even be used… But then, the realization that doing so would change the future irrevocably, what if he never even met Pepper, let alone hired her? Morgan wouldn’t exist – but would he know that she had even existed in the first place? _Fuck time travel._ Tony forces himself to focus on the grand reveal of the cake as Pepper pops the lid off of the Tupperware. 

“Here, Daddy,” Morgan reaches into the container and pulls out a slice of cake with her bare hands, both Tony and Pepper cringing. “This is why you couldn’t have any M&Ms, see?”

Tony moves the slice of cake closer to the lamp, grinning when he sees that the top is covered in red and yellow M&Ms.

“I wanted you to have an Iron Man cake,” Morgan says happily, wrapping an arm around him in a half-hug. “Do you like it?” 

“I love it, sweetpea,” Tony says as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s very pretty – and super cool. What colors did Mommy get?”

“Blue and yellow.” Morgan frowns, “They didn’t have a silver…”

“Aw, that’s a shame, Pep,” Tony nudges Pepper’s arm with a grin. “You could have specialty ordered them.”

“I didn’t know we were doing suit themed slices of cake today, had to work with what was on hand… Speaking of, Tony, Morgan was telling me a very interesting story about her own suit.”

Tony nearly chokes on the first bite of cake, spraying the blanket with crumbs as he coughs harshly, his eyes watering. “I think I just inhaled an M&M,” he gasps, his voice strained, Morgan whacking him on the back in an attempt to be helpful.

Pepper hands him a napkin to wipe his streaming eyes, deciding that her husband is not in immediate danger, and is instead being dramatic. “Nice try, honey.” 

“I’m not making her a suit.” Morgan’s head whips to the side to look at him in outrage, and Tony thinks his wink is lost on her in the dim light. “But I’m not gonna try and stifle her creativity and tell her she can’t _draw_ herself a suit. Are you trying to stifle our daughter’s creativity, Pepper?”

She glowers at him and takes a bite of her cake. _I have not heard the end of that, that’s for damn sure._  

The cake is delicious, and Tony allows Morgan to filch a few candies off of his plate, amused by the spread of chocolate icing all over her face. Pepper hands him a damp napkin, Morgan squirming in his arms as he scrubs her face clean. 

Tony lies back on the blanket, resting his arms behind his head, comfortably full and actually rather happy with how the evening has progressed. He won’t be happy tomorrow, when Steve Rogers shows up on his doorstep in a desperate attempt to recruit him, but for now, Tony is blissfully unaware of what is to come.

Pepper reclines beside him on his left, Morgan on his right – the two of them snuggling up next to him as they all gaze up at the stars. 

“How big is space, Daddy?” Morgan asks him quietly, the starlight reflected in her brown eyes.

“So big that we don’t know how big it is, Morgie. Silly answer, huh?” He feels her nod against his shirt and smiles. “Maybe you’ll figure that out for all of us. Though you have to promise me that you’ll stay on Earth.”

“Earth is boring,” Morgan sighs, but her pinky finger wraps around his. “But I promise.” 

Tony’s arms now rest beneath the heads of his wife and daughter, and they are already going numb, but he wouldn’t pull them away for anything. 

“Petey’s up there?” Morgan points at the tiny but bright red circle up in the sky. Mars. _Wish he was just on Mars. I could get him if he was just there._

“Maybe not there, baby, but he’s out there, in space. Far from us, but up there somewhere.”

Pepper’s hand rests against his chest, her fingers curling against his shirt, the presence of her hand a comforting weight.

“Nebula says there are other planets like Earth,” Morgan says, her tone defensive, expecting Tony to deny what the alien had told her.

“Yeah, she told me that too. That there are planets with other people on them – like humans, but not like humans. Pretty crazy, huh?”

“How many planets do you think are inhabited, Tony?” Pepper never usually talks about space with him, weary of his reaction and never wanting to upset him. 

“Honestly, Pep – probably more than I could ever think of. Carol would know better than I would, but she’s probably not even visited more than a tiny percentage of them. Vast universe, and all that.” _Not so vast, now. Half as big – are there entire planets that were completely wiped out? How was the calculation of half of life in the universe computed?_

“Where would you go if you could go anywhere in the world, Morgan?” Tony looks over to his right, watching Morgan as she chews at her bottom lip in thought.

“Disney World.”

Tony blinks, surprised. “Disney World, really? Out of all the places in the whole wide world?”

“Yep. There’s a castle…” Morgan lifts her head to look directly at him, her eyebrows raised. “You never been?" 

“I actually haven’t,” Tony admits, and Pepper lifts her head away from his chest to look at him in surprise. “What? Why is that weird? My dad didn’t think it was worth spending money on – though I wanted to go when I was a kid, it opened a year after I was born and it’s all everyone talked about at school… But my mom could never convince my dad, and it wasn’t like we were going to go in secret, because he’d blow a gasket, so… I didn’t go. You’re telling me you’ve been, Pep?” 

“Of course I’ve been, Tony,” Pepper looks at him in disbelief. “It’s _Disney World._ Everyone’s been.” She kisses him sweetly, and Tony smiles against her lips despite himself. “Everyone except you, of course, honey.” 

“And me,” Morgan pokes her mother in the arm, “I want to go.”

“We should go,” Pepper decides, looking down at Tony thoughtfully. “Maybe we should go at Christmastime. That would be fun, right? We could take a vacation…”

“A Disney Christmas?” Tony raises an eyebrow. “How am I supposed to feed Santa’s reindeer if we’re staying at a hotel?”

“Don’t you know, Tony?” Pepper’s lips brush against his jaw. “Santa stays at the Magic Kingdom at Christmastime… So you could ask him yourself, if we went…” 

“Really?!” Morgan’s eyes are wide. “Santa’s at Disney? We have to go!”

“You heard the girl, Tony,” Pepper grins. “I guess we have to go.” 

“Christmas at Disney,” Tony grumbles, “Tell you what, I’ll agree to it – if – and this is a big if… If the both of you stay out of trouble all the way to December _and_ if we still get to do our traditions while we’re there.” 

“Yes!” Morgan plants a big kiss on his cheek. “I wanna be Belle.”

“Okay, you can be Belle…”

“And Buzz Lightyear…”

“Do they even make Buzz Lightyear costumes?” _There goes all of the money from the swear jar. She’s going to want to be every Disney character ever._

Morgan settles back down against his chest, as does Pepper. “I’m sure we could make one, Morgan – or maybe Auntie Nat would make one.”

Morgan yawns, her eyes drifting closed for a moment before struggling over again. “Yay Auntie Nat… She makes the best costumes… and dresses… and…” Morgan yawns again, her sugar high apparently crashing. 

“I’m sure Auntie Nat would be more than willing to make a Buzz Lightyear costume,” Tony says as he looks up at the stars again, his gaze pulled back to the red planet. _Not the right one. The one I want is far away – I left the kid far away. What was left of him on my hands was washed off, the rest of it mixed in with the dirt on Titan. I shouldn’t have left him up there._

“Tony,” Pepper’s quiet voice pulls him out of his thoughts – which he appreciates, this is the one night that he’s intentionally trying not to think about Thanos and the death that had followed him. “I think Morgan’s fallen asleep. We should put her in bed.”

“You’re right,” Tony murmurs, his left arm tingling as Pepper sits up properly, suddenly freeing it. He shakes it out slowly, trying not to jostle Morgan awake where she is fast asleep against him. Tony wraps both arms around his daughter, shifting her up higher on his chest as he gets to his feet slowly. Morgan hums sleepily, pressing her face against his neck, her hair tickling at his nose as he breathes in the crisp night air. Pepper packs up their picnic basket, and Tony collects the lamp with his free hand. They are one of the hundreds of thousands of quiet processions occurring on this day, though Tony and Pepper are walking back towards their house, while countless other people throughout the universe march towards the memorials that had been set up to honor the endless number of dead. 

Morgan sighs in her sleep as Tony sets her down gently onto her bed. Pepper pulls her duvet up over her, tucking their daughter in carefully. Tony stands beside her bed, gazing down at her. 

_What would you do if I was gone tomorrow? Are you old enough now that you would remember me when you’re thirty? Or would you have to rely on Pepper to tell you stories about your dad? Would you care that I was gone? Would you hate me for going, even if it meant…_ Tony presses a soft kiss to Morgan’s forehead, breathing her in for a moment. _Everything is going to change. I feel it – I don’t know how I know… Things can’t go on like this._  

Pepper takes his free hand while Tony plugs in Morgan’s nightlight before they leave her bedroom. He looks back over his shoulder at their sleeping daughter, wanting to commit this moment of peace to memory. 

“Tony, what are you thinking about?” Pepper’s fingers brush over his jaw, the coarse hair of his goatee rasping against her fingertips as they stand together in the dark hallway. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

_God, am I that much of an open book – still?_ He thinks to the scraps of paper on the side table in the living room, scribbled equations with no solution. The problem with time travel that he keeps encountering is that he has no way to bring it about, no Time stone, no time-turner from Harry Potter, no magic potion easily whipped up in the kitchen. And still, he scribbles his equations like he has this key ingredient – like he’s always had it. 

“Me, hold stuff back from you? Never, Pep. I’m an open book.”


	15. Chapter 15

The Avengers compound is much larger than Tony remembers it being – _but then again, it’s been five years since I’ve stepped foot in this place. Still paying taxes on it, though._ The compound was still legally the property of Tony Stark, and Howard Stark before him. He had paid the taxes these past five years with a scowl, because he didn’t want to get involved in a legal battle with the Avengers were he to attempt to evict them – plus, he wanted Natasha to have somewhere to live. A home. 

This is still home, to some of them. Rocket had claimed a set of four bedrooms for himself, and Tony cringes away when a minor explosion causes one of the doors to bulge out slightly as he passes by, Rocket cackling manically somewhere in there, no doubt covered head to toe ( _paw?_ ) in gunpowder – or something equally as explosive. _C4, probably. Thank God I’m only spending one night here._

He’s not really spoken to the others, aside from Rhodey, Bruce, and Nat. He had given Steve back his shield, and that had been a true test of morality. _Dad never would have taken it away in the first place. But Dad wouldn’t have given a damn that he tried to kill me, hell, he probably would’ve been right there with Steve, whaling away at me…_ Pepper had watched him from the porch as he had stood on the driveway, Captain America’s shield in hand. He had even dusted it upon removing it from its storage unit, reverently. He was still, after all, the very same boy who had had a Captain America poster hung up in his childhood bedroom. Even bruised and broken after Siberia, Tony had buffeted out the scorch marks and scours left on the metal – that had taken hours. Wiping away his own blood off the shield had only taken seconds. In the end, Pepper had come down to join him, and had taken the shield from his hands and placed it in the trunk of the Audi. _Decision made._  

So, Tony had returned Captain America’s shield to the hero, and had slunk into the compound with his shoulders practically bunched around his ears from tension. Clint was in here, somewhere – and if Clint was now the one making judgments on who lives and who dies these days, surely the archer would kill him. Clint had never been a big fan of Tony Stark, even before Sokovia and the Accords. Tony’s feet carry him through the halls, towards his own bedroom, though he’s not really aware of where he’s going. He passes by the med bay and looks away quickly, remembering the seething rage he had felt when he had laid on that bed. The rage is still there, if he searches for it, an ember clinging to life, spluttering weakly in the pit of his stomach. If he gave it a little bit of attention, stoked it gently, it would roar back to life – he knew that. _But I can’t do that right now. I have to get the kid back. I have to get Happy back. That’s all that matters. I’m working with them, just this one last time, and then I’m retiring for good._

Retirement. Tony’s hand closes around the doorknob to his old bedroom, pausing for a moment. _What a crock of shit._ Tony Stark isn’t the type of man that retires – he’d tested it out at the lake, building a family with Pepper – and look where he is now. Right back in the thick of things, ready to risk life and limb once again for a world that now hates him. _Hey, maybe after this they’ll start making Iron Man merch again._ He grins, and then it fades. _Yeah, right. Just because I brought them back doesn’t mean that everyone will forgive me for them going away in the first place. I imagine I’ll be raised from scummiest man alive to still a pretty scummy dude but we let him fade into obscurity because he’s repaid his debt to the universe._

“Tony?” The ember burns a little brighter, caught off guard by the deep and cautious voice of Steve Rogers, standing a few steps away from him. Tony had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts about redemption and persecution that he hadn’t heard the super soldier at all. _God, I’m getting old. Old, stupid, and selfish._  

“Hey, Cap.” His hand loosens on the doorknob, falling to his side. Slender fingers – _pianist’s fingers, Mamma always said_ – slip into his pocket, brushing over the sunglasses hidden within. What he wouldn’t give to put them on, to feel the comforting weight of them on his face, the world awash in blue. His armor, when he couldn’t wear the suit. Tony swallows slightly, his fingers curling into a fist, and he turns to face Steve head on. _No armor tonight. He’s just a man, Stark. Sometimes I think you forget that._ “What can I do you for?” 

Steve smiles slightly, perhaps comforted by the thinnest thread of patented Tony Stark snark. _He really does think all is forgiven – look at him, blonde hair, blushing cheeks. God._ “I just wanted to see – we’ve ordered dinner, and everyone was gonna sit down and have dinner together. I wanted -.” _What did you want, Steve? Really, what did you want?_ The other man is looking at him so earnestly that the flicker of rage splutters out, just for a moment. _Hell, what I would’ve given to have Steve Rogers look at me like that when I was 18. Now…_ “You need to eat, Tony. Tomorrow is a big day – and I wanted you to join us.”

Tony reaches up with his other hand, tapping the reactor on his chest faintly, feeling the metal spread across his collarbone, over the curve of his shoulder, down his bicep… Steve tenses at the movement, his eyes widening, hands reaching for a shield that isn’t there.

“Stand down, Cap. No cause for alarm.” The nanites pool in his hand, a flurry of red and gold, forming into the Iron Man helmet. Tony turns it about in his hand, admiring it. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over nanotech, to tell you the truth. It’s just sleek. The next step, if there even is a next step, is finding a way to merge it completely into my biology. Birds with their hollow bones, why can’t I have hollow bones?” 

Steve opens his mouth, and then closes it, but there’s the faintest bit of horror in his blue eyes. _Perhaps he’s not the biggest fan of the idea._

“I know, bone marrow, blood vessels – I’d be giving myself osteoporosis, on a level probably not yet seen before. Probably not worth it, when I can just have the reactor on my chest. Plus, Pepper would kill me, if the merging of suit and biology didn’t already. But hey, if Bruce can do it, why can’t I? Same basic idea, right – two halves of the same man…” Tony shakes his head slightly, tucking the helmet under his arm. “Sorry about dinner, Cap, but I’m gonna take a rain check. I’ve got something I have to do tonight, and there’s really no time for me to stop to eat. Don’t worry about me.” _Not like you would, right?_ “Pep and I had a hearty breakfast this morning before I left. I’ll eat a granola bar before I’m flung into the quantum realm at the mercy of Scott Lang’s supposed intellect.”

Tony’s hand wraps back around the doorknob, turning it, his back to Steve. “See you in the morning, Steve. Hey --.” He looks over his shoulder at the super soldier, all shadows and bulk as dusk gives way to night just outside the window. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, Tony,” Steve answers instantly. _Where was this willingness five years ago? Maybe the beard gave him the power to be empathetic. Ha._  

“Just make sure no one comes and bugs me, okay? I’m going to lock the door, but Natasha would pick it in an instant. If you could tell everyone I’ve gone to bed with a bad headache, or something, I’d appreciate it.” 

“I’ll do that, Tony,” Steve says softly, left standing alone in the hallway with his hands held loosely at his sides, the door to Tony’s bedroom closing quietly, the lock sounding like a gunshot as it clicks into place. 

Tony’s trembling fingers reach up and tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling the fabric away from his neck so that he can breathe. He rests against the door, tipping his head back and closing his eyes at the thud of his skull against wood. The flash of the shield catching the harsh white light of Siberia as it arcs down and shatters the glass front of his reactor, the metallic taste of blood at the back of his throat, the chilling helplessness as he had laid there in a busted suit wishing he were dead. _That won’t happen again._ The helmet in his hand is proof of that, the swiftness of the armor encasing him at moment’s notice – whether the attack came from friend or foe, Tony would be ready. His hand lowers from the collar of the black polo shirt he had thrown on, not wanting to be too dressy or too casual at the Avengers reunion/save the universe party he had been invited to attend. The lights of the bedroom flick on, Tony blinking as he looks around the empty bedroom. _Man, I did a great job packing things up, given the state of mind I was in at the time. Not even a picture frame._  

He sits down on the edge of the bed, dust puffing up from the duvet – and he sneezes. “Jesus.” Tony mutters, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. _It’s a good thing I don’t plan on sleeping in there, I’d probably turn into a dust mite._ He holds the helmet in both hands now, awash in a flash of blue as the eye slits light up and scan over him. 

“Well, FRIDAY, you read my mind. I need a better background though.” He tosses the helmet onto the bed and gets to his feet, prowling around the bedroom, not quite sure what he’s searching for. _Where do you record a watch-in-case-I-bite-it message?_  

He grabs a chair from the desk in the corner of the room, dragging it across the hardwood floor and leaving scratch marks behind. _I’ll bill myself._ Tony laughs, the noise manic and frightening, and he swallows back another one before he scares himself.

The helmet is angled better on the edge of the bed, he takes a seat on the chair and decides that his posture is too formal. _Can’t let ‘em know how terrified I am. Have to look casual, fun-loving… Like I’m not about to piss myself at the thought of leaving this all behind. Like I’m not certain that messing with time will be my end. I’ve left it alone thus far, and there must have been a reason for that, considering all the other things I’ve fucked up in my frankly short life._ He twirls the chair around and settles back on it, the back of the chair resting against his chest, his arms folded over the top of it. 

“How does this look, FRI?”

“Very casual, boss,” FRIDAY supplies, the helmet scanning over him again. “Would you like to see the angle before we begin?”

“Yeah, hit me.” Tony turns his head, looking over at himself – a washed out looking recording staring straight back at him. Tony waves. The holographic version of himself mirrors him instantly; Tony can see the grin on his face before he even thinks to smile. “That’ll do, FRIDAY. Just give me a second, I want to look over what I mean to say.” 

He had written it on the back of a receipt, scribbled down snippets of thoughts at red lights, and he’s not sure if it’s what he wants to say. “It feels fake,” he complains to himself, finger hovering over the line that troubles him the most. “Part of the journey is the end. And then I just end it there? How melodramatic, like I’ve already accepted that I’m going to die.” _Because I have, and I am._ “I need a better closer. Maybe something will come to me… Let’s just roll it.”

It takes four recordings of the same message before Tony finally goes off script at the end, a stroke of brilliant improvisation that feels right the moment the words leave his mouth. “What am I tripping for? Everything is going to work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.” He pauses, lips curving into a smile, when he looks at the helmet, he sees his daughter. “I love you three thousand.” Tony reaches out and presses his hand to the front of the helmet, ending the recording.

“I think that’s it, FRIDAY. It feels better than the others. More reassuring. And if this is the one Morgan is going to have access to for the next couple of years, I want it to be reassuring. Pop it into the Sunset folder, with a description… In the event of my death, suitable for all viewers.” Tony runs his fingers through his hair slowly, resting his chin against the back of the chair. _Wish I had a drink._ He would be able to find one, he knows that for a fact. He knows that Natasha probably has the world’s best vodka hidden away in her bedroom, and he also knows that Steve is quite the connoisseur of scotch, drinking it for the taste rather than the effect – since there is no effect for him.

“Alright,” Tony argues with himself, “Wish I had coffee, then, if not booze. Asshole.”

He rubs at his eyes slowly, until he sees stars across the back of his eyelids. _God, I haven’t really even started yet, and I’m so tired. So tired._ He opens his eyes slowly, blinking away the stars, focusing his gaze on the four names he has listed at the bottom of the receipt. Rhodey, Peter, Morgan, Pepper.

“What’s the time, FRI?” He could just glance down at his wrist at the Bvlgari watch Pepper had given him for their anniversary, but even the sluggish movement of his eyes down to the watch would exhaust him further.

“Half past twelve, boss.”

“Jesus Christ, already?” Tony’s hand covers his mouth, fingers curling against his jaw, nails pressing in savagely against his skin. _There’s no way I can do more than those four. I’ll run out of time. Sorry Nat. Sorry Hap. Maybe I won’t even need them, and I’ll see you both tomorrow. I’ve only got time for four, to say everything I want to say. I’m sorry._

“Title this one for Rhodey, if you please.” Tony stands, whole body aching and crying out for bed, turning the chair around so that he can sit in it properly. No need to be casual now, now he just wants to be honest. This is a message for his best friend, and anything other than honest would be a slight to their expansive friendship.

“Hey, Rhodey,” Tony says a moment after the helmet scans over him again. “It seems I’ve met an untimely end, huh?” Tony wishes he had a script for these messages, this feels too vulnerable, too real. “Christ, this sucks.” His hand runs over his face, hiding him for a moment. “This sucks because if you’re watching this, it’s real. The first message was fun, a little tongue in cheek gallows humor. A necessity, right? Because what if I do bite it tomorrow? There has to be something there for people to watch and think – God, he was so brave. But I’m recording these messages for you, and Morgan, and… Because I really do think I’m going to die, it’s this pervasive, terrible feeling. I can’t get it out of my head.”

“And to be honest with you, sourpatch, I really don’t want to die. I’ve come a long way, you know? I think you’ll agree, you’ve known me the longest. Hey – remember that time I threw up all that coffee on you the morning after I submitted that huge paper for Comp? Because that asshole professor said I bullshitted it, and gave me a 0 – he was right, I did completely bullshit it. And then I stayed up for 27 hours surviving purely on coffee rewriting the paper with the exact same argument, but with actual evidence to back it up… And when I got back to the dorm, you were there, fresh from basketball practice, and I yartzed all over your new shoes.” Tony laughs, he can almost taste the coffee and vomit on his tongue – ordinarily a memory that would make him nauseous, but he can still recall Rhodey’s furious face. “I’m not that guy anymore. I was that guy for the longest time, until I had to grow up. I think I’ve grown up too fast, Rhodey. Only old people die, right? I’m invincible, I have to be… But now I think I’m old, and since I’m old, I can die…” 

“And what if you die? I’m recording this assuming that I die, and not you, but what if… What if I live and you die?” Tony swallows, feeling a chill creep down his spine. “Christ, Rhodey, I don’t know what I would do if that happened. I nearly lost it when you – your back – I thought, seeing you lying there in the dirt… My fault.”

“But,” Tony forces himself to brighten after a few seconds, “I have to remember – this recording is in case I die, and you’re watching it, so you’re alive! What do I want to tell you? What wisdom do I have to impart? Not much, to be honest, you were always the smartest between the two of us. Common sense wise, too, always there to stop me before I did something to irrevocably stupid. I guess you couldn’t stop me this time… I’ve left you the car collection – well, I split it between you and Happy. Is that shitty of me? I figure you guys can take your pick, and Happy will really only want the Cobra. There are also a bunch of designs I’ve drawn up on War Machine that will be made available to you, and you’ll always have use of my ‘shop… Just keep it to yourself, if you can, I don’t want the Air Force making my garage their new base of ammunition design. I’ve left you money, of course. I feel like that’s all I have to give, like if you boil my life down all that’ll be there is a stack of cash. Is that true, Rhodey?” He prays to God it isn’t. “I’ve tried hard to grow beyond that, beyond the money and the fame and the superhero-ing, but what if I haven’t? I don’t want to be the selfish rich bastard my dad was.” Tony sighs, looking at the helmet intently. “You’re my best friend, Rhodey. And I love you. And I’m sorry I died, and ended our friendship because of it – if I had it my way, I’ll be up there, waiting for you all.” Tony points vaguely to the ceiling, grinning though his eyes are glassy with forming tears. “If there really is anything up there, though, I’ll likely be down there.” He points to the floor. “Oh well, I’ll find a way to make it a party. I always do. End it there, FRIDAY.”

He reaches up and rubs at his eyes, hard, wiping away the tears before they can drip down his cheeks. “I can’t do this.” _I have to._ “Okay, fine. If I’m going to do this, I need coffee. Coffee and something sweet to distract me. Because this is making me feel shitty.” Tony gets to his feet, leaving the helmet on the bed.

The compound is still, Tony slips down the hall, tiptoeing past bedrooms with their doors firmly shut. _‘Twas the night before Armageddon, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring – not even a…_ The lights are on in the kitchen, Chinese take-out boxes strewn along the countertops. Tony sighs, gathering them up in his arms and throwing them into the trash.

“Can’t sleep?”

_Not even a spider._

“No,” Tony replies, getting out two mugs while the coffee drips slowly into the pot. “What about you?”

Natasha stands beside him, picking up her mug, her finger brushing around the rim of it slowly. “Same. Seems like too big of a day tomorrow to sleep. Kind of like Christmas Eve.”

Tony grins humorlessly, “No presents tomorrow, though, Nat. Well, there might be. If it works…” He pours the coffee, leaving Natasha’s black just as she likes it. Usually, Tony would do the same – but tonight, he wants to indulge. He opens up the fridge and pulls out some creamer, not checking the flavor, and dumps in an ample amount. Next comes half the sugar jar, and the coffee is sickeningly sweet – but ever so satisfying as it burns a path down to his stomach. “I could talk to Steve about us swapping with you and Clint, if you want. I’m sure you’d fit into a S.H.I.E.L.D. outfit, and Clint could take out 2012 Steve in two seconds flat…”

“I think it’s too late to switch up the plan, Tony,” Natasha says quietly, setting her mug down, her hands still wrapped around it for warmth. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll be fine too,” Tony lies. “Where do you keep the cookies these days?” 

“Skipping dinner and heading straight for dessert?”  

Tony catches the pack of Oreos that Natasha tosses to him, and grins. “You know me so well.” He rips open the top of the Oreos, offering them to Natasha, who takes a couple. “See you tomorrow, Nat. Try to get some rest.”

“You too, Tony.” He leaves her standing alone in the kitchen, drinking her coffee and eating her cookies, and thinking of family and sacrifice. 

Back in his bedroom, Tony prepares himself for the next three messages, downing his coffee in a few gulps. He eats half the pack of Oreos before he feels vaguely nauseous, and ends up setting them on the bed beside the helmet, should he feel the need to eat more after a particularly trying recording.

“Peter. Peter…” Tony trails off; he has so much he wants to say to the kid, he’s had five years of things he wants to say to him. “First of all, before you shut this off – if you shut this off – I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that you died on Titan. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry that I involved you in this in the first place – all because I wanted to be right, and Steve to be wrong. And I understand if you don’t want my apology, I understand if you hate me. Why wouldn’t you hate me? Time has moved on, and even if we’ve managed to bring you back, the world has changed so much.” 

“But there’s a part of me that knows that even if I hadn’t brought you to Germany, you would have ended up being an Avenger. You’ve got the talent, the courage, the skill – most definitely the smarts. You’ve built up a great relationship with your neighborhood, they appreciate Spider-Man, and they look to him for help… And eventually, we would have seen you swinging your way up onto an alien spaceship without any prodding from anyone else, because you want to protect people. Because you believe you owe it to them, if you have these powers, to save those that can’t save themselves… So while I wish I had never gotten you involved, the selfish part of me is glad that I did. Because I got to mentor you – or try to mentor you, I know, I was probably shit. But I tried, Peter, you have to believe me – even if you think I’m a lying piece of shit, believe me on two things. The first, that I’m sorry, and the second, that I tried to be a good mentor to you. With everything I had, I meant it when I said that I wanted you to be better than me. That’s no big feat, though, you were better than me the minute you put on your homemade costume and started helping people. Listen to me – am I trying to rationalize your death by saying it would have happened even without my involvement? God, this is why I can’t sleep at night.”

Tony raises his hands, palms facing outwards, admitting defeat. “Yes, you heard correctly. I’ve not had a decent night’s sleep in a while. About five years, really. How can I sleep, anyways? Too much on my mind for that. And even when I do sleep, I wake up and you’re dying all over again. You’re always dying, when I close my eyes – when I’m making breakfast, doing the dishes – always. Even when I don’t realize it, I’ll look down at my hand and see you fade away underneath it, and it’ll hit me all over again. God, Peter, I wish I could describe it better for you – could describe to you how it felt, to lose you.” Tony shakes his head slowly, willing away the tears burning in his eyes. _No, I won’t cry – not on this one. No._ “It felt like I was losing my kid,” Tony admits, looking down at his hands, seeing the ash – what was left of Peter Parker. “You might scoff at that, I wouldn’t blame you. And maybe I’ve spent the past five years inflating our relationship into something more than what it was – I don’t think you saw me as a father figure, but I’ve come to see you as a son. And if I am dead, and you’re watching this – then what a goddamn waste. I know I had more I could teach you, tell you… But I’m restricted to this recording. You might not even be watching this anymore – I hope you are, though. And I hope you can forgive me.”

Tony reaches up to rub at his eyes, though he passes it off as though he’s just brushing his hand over his face, gathering his thoughts.

“First of all, I hope you stay in touch with Pepper. She cares about you just as much as I do – and Morgan… Yeah, you’ve met her by now I’m sure, but I have a kid. And I gotta admit, I talked you up quite a bit… So if you remotely feel like doing me a favor, keep an eye on her, would you? I know it’s a lot for me to ask, and you didn’t ask for a little sister to watch out for – and if you don’t want to do it, then…” Tony shrugs helplessly. “I can’t exactly force you to. But it would mean a lot to me if you just made sure… Losing a parent is hard – and you know that, and that’s why I’m asking…”

Tony gets to his feet, he can no longer just sit there and talk to the helmet. Instead, he starts to pace – back and forth behind the chair, knowing that he’s being recorded regardless of where he stands. 

“And as for Spider-Man… There’s something I made for you, you’ll just need to get to the house and ask FRIDAY for access to Spider storage. Not a very creative name, I’ll admit, but I’ve not been in the most creative mood… I’ll spare you the suspense; it’s a new suit. I finally cracked the code on your webbing a few years back – at least, I think I did. I probably got it wrong, I don’t know… Anyways, take the suit, please. I hope that you use it, but at least humor me by taking it. If you toss it in the garbage on your way out, how am I gonna know? But you might just want to try it on, test it out a bit… I think it’s some of my best work. And if it’s not, I’ve made sure that you have access to all R&D departments of Stark Industries worldwide, and you’ll have access to my personal workshop at the lake… Make it your best work, improve upon it, change it - whatever you want to do, kid.”

Tony pauses at the window, looking up at the moon, his back to the helmet. “It’s getting late and I still have a lot I need to say… And you might think that what I’m about to say is a load of shit… I remember how it first felt to get into my suit, to fly over Malibu – completely anonymous, and with so much power. There was so much I could do, so much I wanted to do… I let Iron Man consume my life. So much so that Pepper and I broke up for a time, I don’t know if I ever mentioned that to you – before I met you, she and I… Well, she told me that I had to make a choice. And I did make a choice, but I know now that it was the wrong one. What I’m trying to say, kid, is that I gave away too much of myself so that I could be a superhero. Because I felt like I had a responsibility, after realizing the damage I’d done my entire life, I had to undo the death – I had to save people… I felt guilty, I still feel guilty… But you might come back from this, from death, and realize you don’t feel like you owe anyone anything. And that’s fine. Or you might come back and want to be Spider-Man forever – and you could do that, if you wanted – you’d be the best out of all of us, Peter.”

“But I know that Nick Fury isn’t going to tell you that you can stop being Spider-Man if you want to stop being Spider-Man. And I know you won’t listen to your aunt if she begs you to stop, because you’ll think that she’s inherently biased, worrying about your safety… But I’m telling you, as a guy that cares about you very much, and a guy that died to get you back… Don’t lose Peter Parker to become Spider-Man. Be a kid, do your homework, fall in love – go to college, stay up late, party, shuffle into Calc III hungover… But don’t give up all that so that you can save people, because you’ll give too much, and then you won’t be able to save yourself. It’ll be too late. There’s a line, Peter – and if you’re watching this, it means that I’ve crossed it.” Tony turns to face the helmet, his expression pleading. “If you learn anything from me at all, Pete, don’t be like me. Be better – be Spider-Man, but be Peter Parker, too.” 

Tony looks down at his feet, “Cut it, FRIDAY.” 

He staggers into the en-suite bathroom, falling to his knees in front of the toilet, and retches – but nothing comes up. His hands grasp at the sides of the toilet so hard that the muscles of his forearms tremble, willing himself to be sick – but nothing comes up at all. Tony gasps raggedly, resting his forehead against the cold porcelain, his eyes closing. _Thought for a minute there I was gonna be sick. Really thought… Just the Oreos, though, right? Just gorged myself on sugar, that’s all._ His pulse races, he can feel it all the way down to his fingertips. _Or am I making myself feel sick with this morbid shit?_ Slowly, carefully, he grabs at the sink counter and hauls himself up onto his feet. 

“Jesus, look at you,” Tony murmurs as he stares at himself in the mirror. He’s pale and sweaty, and his brown eyes are bloodshot from being on the verge of tears more times than he would care to admit. Plus, he’s tired. _So tired._ “You can’t record something for Morgan looking like this, Stark.” He turns on the tap for the cold water, bending down and sticking his head under the faucet. The water soaks his hair and trickles down his face, and Tony feels a little better. By the time he pulls away from the sink, he looks a bit like a sodden dog left out in a thunderstorm, but he doesn’t look as peaky. “Better, but still look like shit.”

He wipes his face with the hand towel, and then runs his fingers through his wet hair until it’s pushed back out of his face. It always curls when it gets wet, but there’s nothing he can do about it now, there isn’t a hairdryer in sight. 

Tony returns to the chair slowly, his hands in his pockets, his jaw set. _This will be the hardest one, this one – and Pepper’s. My girls. What am I supposed to say to them that will make them feel better?_

“Hey, Morgie.” Tony smiles. “Does your mother still call you that? I hope she does… So, you’re sixteen now – that’s old! Ancient, actually by your current metric. And tonight is the night before I’m supposed to go back in time and help save the world. Has your mother told you about that? I’m sure she has – do you care? I don’t blame you if you don’t. I never could stand it when my father went on and on, patting himself on the back. Hey, at least with me dead, you didn’t have to put up with that…” He pauses, cocking his head. “I hope you watch this by yourself before you watch it with your mother…” He lifts his hand in a wave, “Hey Pep, if you’re there – because she probably wouldn’t appreciate me being so blasé about being dead. I promise you, Morgan, I’m not trying to be blasé. If I’m honest with you, and you’re sixteen now so I think you can handle me being honest with you, it’s taking everything I’ve got right now not to just end this recording and allow myself to mourn losing a lifetime of raising you, watching you grow into a brilliant young woman… So, I’m trying to be upbeat, but if I start crying, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t think any less of me. Maybe you haven’t thought of me at all…” His hands clasp together between his knees, leaning forward closer to the helmet.

“For all I know, I’m just some holographic guy to you that won’t shut the hell up about loving you three thousand – whatever the hell that means, right? Some guy who gave you his eyes and his wicked sense of humor, but went and got himself killed and left you and your mom to navigate through life without him. Maybe you resent me. I would, if I was you… But, it’s your birthday, and this is my gift to you. A real, unfiltered one-sided conversation with Tony Stark on the night before he died. And the reason I’ve made you wait this long to watch it is because I don’t know what I’m going to say – hell, I’ve already been making jokes about me dying, that would really upset present you… I was at MIT already when I was sixteen, and maybe you are, too. Or maybe you aren’t – maybe you’re at home, composing something on the piano… Maybe you’re swimming in the lake, perfectly happy in high school. All I want is for you to be perfectly happy, at whatever it is you do. I hope people aren’t pressuring you to follow in my footsteps, and I hope you don’t feel like you’ve lived your life in a shadow. If you do, I wish I could come and get my lost shadow, like Peter Pan. But that’s not within my power anymore, if you’re watching this and I’m gone. I can’t make the boogieman disappear. There was never a boogieman under your bed, by the way, I know I told you that there was and that I was pals with him so he wouldn’t hurt you, but the only thing under your bed was some dust bunnies…” 

“I’ve got some well-meant advice for you to adhere to or neglect, like a choose your own adventure… But before I get to that, I want to make sure of some things. Number one, is your bedroom tidy? And yes, I do mean that your bed is made and that you’ve dusted your blinds… I’ll wait for you to do that – here, look, do I look patient? You can tell FRIDAY to pause the recording so that you can tidy your room.” Tony raises an eyebrow, “Young lady, I’m serious about pausing this and cleaning up. FRIDAY won’t un-pause me until she’s deemed your room sufficiently clean.” Tony crosses his arms over his chest, waiting a few moments. “Alright, thanks for doing that, sweetheart. I know, you’ve gone almost twelve years without your dad hounding you to clean up after yourself – so you’ll understand why I had to make up for it. Have you told your mom that you love her today? Unfortunately I have no way of making you do that, so I’m just going to trust that you’ve told her. Even if you’re mad at her, for some reason, you should tell her. I wish I was there right now to tell your mother that I love her.”

Tony’s hand raises to his chest, wincing at the sudden sharp, stabbing pain there. _Christ._ It leaves him breathless, slowly massaging his chest in an attempt to soothe away the pain. _Just psychosomatic. Just freaked myself out talking about Pepper, that’s all. I can call her right now and tell her I love her, if I want. Calm down, Stark – your kid is watching this._

“So…” He endeavors to forge ahead, to ignore the pain, to put on a brave face. “My advice… Do **not** take Intro to Chem when you get to college, you’re my kid, and I know you’ll do just fine in Chem 1. After that, the rest is up to you. Major in art, major in engineering, major in music – major in whatever it is that makes you happy. If multiple things make you happy, go and get multiple degrees – I’ve made sure that there’s enough money there for you to get like eight hundred PhDs if that’s what you wanted. When you’re legally able to drink, have fun, but don’t drink too much. I’m an alcoholic, your mother hasn’t told you that I’m sure – so you have a bit of a predisposition – sorry about that, by the way… So, drink responsibly – I know that sounds boring, but I mean it. Don’t throw a party at the house when your mother is away on a business trip, I literally constructed that house board by board and you’d be slighting my memory were you to wreck the kitchen, or something, with all of your teenage pals… But if I know Pepper Potts, then I know that she’s raised a responsible young woman who would have her parties at someone else’s house to avoid getting in trouble with her mother.”

“You may not remember this conversation, but I promised you that we would work on a suit for you together. You might not be interested in having a suit now, interests change in a blink of an eye, and it has been several, several blinks since we had that chat… But, if it’s still something you’re interested in, I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you. While we were living at the lake, I’d always be working on something, and when I made your mother’s suit – I got it into my head to model an AI after my own consciousness… Sure, he’ll be a bit out of date when it comes to pop culture references, and you might think it weird, or morbid. But it’s one hundred percent me – at least, it was on the day I uploaded it. And there’s been no one there to give him updates about what’s going on movies and music wise, but maybe you can boot him up… It’ll just be my voice, I didn’t have time to model – well…” He gestures at himself, “One of these for it, because I thought the idea was a bit too grandiose, a bit too… egotistic. But it’s the only way I can think for you and me to build a suit together for you now. So, boot him up – there are designs I drew up out of curiosity, and you’re more than welcome to go ahead with your own design – pink and green still? AI Tony’ll help you out, and you’ll have the kick ass suit I promised you when you were four.” 

“More advice, huh? I can give you more advice – don’t waste your time on someone who doesn’t love you. Before your mother – there was one, in particular – I didn’t see it at the time, because I was in love, but he didn’t actually give a damn about me…. He didn’t love me, but he loved my money. You’ll find old articles of me in my late twenties and early thirties, the playboy of Malibu, right? You’re probably gagging right now because I’m talking about this, but it’s important. I did all that stuff because I thought no one would ever really love me at all, there was too much around me to distract them – wealth, fame, you name it. Your mother, though, she… Well, she didn’t give a damn that I had money, she didn’t particularly want to pose for pictures next to me, and she always was sharpening a pin to stick in my very big head – deflating it whenever it got too swollen. And I fell in love with her, because I realized that she wasn’t in love with Tony Stark, really, but she was in love with Tony – me. The real me.” He shakes his head slowly, “Ew, that sounds disgustingly sentimental, which I’m not. But maybe I am, I think this recording proves that I lean towards the sentimental side… So don’t let anyone chase after what you have, let them chase after you, though. And if someone breaks your heart, don’t take it as an invitation to make your heart this impenetrable embarrassment that you keep under lock and key – because one day your very own Pepper Potts will come along… Not the Pepper Potts, though, that would be problematic. But you get what I’m saying, at least, I hope you get what I’m saying…”

“Never mix liquors if you can avoid it, stick to one drink that you like throughout the night or else you’ll regret the variety when you’re throwing it all up the next day. Make sure you’re always kind to people who help you, and try to be kind to people who don’t like you at all – I wish I had been better at that. I hope you and Peter got along well, and if not… Well, how could you guys not get along well?” Tony grins, “I bet you’re both peas in a pod, terrorizing Pepper on the daily. Don’t lose touch with your mother,” he says suddenly, expression growing serious. “Even when you go away to school, and it seems like she’s just calling to bug you. She misses you. And if she does move on… Don’t give the guy a hard time; he’s got big shoes to fill. Unless he’s an asshole, then you make sure your mother steers clear of him.” The thought of Pepper moving on after his potential death makes his heart hurt, literally, there’s another jab of pain. 

“If you’re watching this and I really do die… I’m sorry, honey. I never wanted to leave you, you have to believe that. From the minute I laid eyes on you, I wanted to look out for you for – well, for forever. I wanted to be there for every moment, and I guess…” Tony takes a deep breath. _No tears, Stark. You just have to hold on._ “I guess I wasn’t. And I can’t answer if I regret it, truthfully, because it hasn’t happened yet… But I suppose if I do die for the sake of bringing everyone back that we lost, and if we do somehow manage to avoid anything equally as horrible happening in the future… Then I wouldn’t regret it, even though it means missing out on a life with you and your mom. I want to be selfish, believe me. I would love to walk away from this and come home, and read you a bedtime story and kiss your mom – and die at the ripe age of 95. But… There’s a time and a place to be selfish, Morgie, I’ve learned that. If I walked away from this chance, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.  I wouldn’t be able to be the father and husband I want to be if I walked away from this chance. I owe it to you and your mother to be the best man I can be, so… I’m going to try – and apparently…” He runs his fingers over his jaw, looking thoughtful, “I’m also going to die.”

“I love you, Morgan. I know you’ll make me proud, I’ve been proud of you since the day you were born. My parting advice, don’t do anything I **would** do – but do mostly everything your mother wouldn’t do… and do a sprinkle, just a sprinkle, of what your Uncle Rhodey wouldn’t do, too.” He smiles, and tears trickle down his cheeks unwanted but unstoppable. “I love you, tesora. I really do.” 

“Boss?” FRIDAY sounds uncertain, an uncanny reproduction of a human emotion. “I’ve ended the recording…” 

Tony’s gripping his head in his hands, his fingers tangled in his hair, his breathing labored. “God, FRIDAY, I don’t think I can do this anymore. I don’t think I can leave one for Pepper, I’m a mess… It’ll be selfish, just like those messages I recorded for her when Nebula and I were stuck. And I regretted those, I still regret those… It would only hurt her.” 

“I can call Ms. Potts now, if you’d like?” 

“No,” Tony says quickly. “No, that would make it worse – to really talk to her. But, God, I have to leave her something. I have to talk to her… We can lock this file, I guess, and you should only allow her to watch it if she really, really wants to. Warn her that I wasn’t sure about leaving her one, that I worried about it being a mistake, that I wasn’t sure what I was going to say – that it might bring her more pain… And if she still wants to watch it after you’ve said all that, let her. And then after that, if she wants to watch it again, don’t make it a hassle… Just… The initial warning will do.” 

“The file is locked, boss.”

Tony nods, the world still dark, his palms pressed against his eyes.

“Hey, Pepper. I’m sorry I’ve left you for last because I don’t think I have the strength to carry on like I’m fine, like I’m not scared. And I’m not sure if you deserve a positive message with me telling you to move on after I’m dead and that everything will be okay, or if you deserve utmost honesty with me telling you that I’m terrified and I wish that I had locked it in a box and thrown it into the lake. Well, first I would have filled the box with cement, and then locked it and flung it into the lake never to be seen again. Because knowing my luck, without the cement, it just would have come floating to the surface, over and over again…”

“And then there’s a part of me that’s completely giddy at the thought of time travel. There’s so much I could do, so much I could change… Globally, and personally. Our relationship is getting cut off so suddenly, but would this have been easier for us if we had started dating in 2000 instead? A little more time, just you and me… I won’t, of course. I won’t have the opportunity to mess around with anything other than what we have planned. That’s a good thing, I think – and if I make it out of this, I’m going to make sure that we destroy the technology before the temptation to change sets in… Stronger than it already has. But if you’re watching this, then I’m not there to destroy it… I hope someone has…”

“God, Pepper…” His hands pull away from his face, and he looks to the helmet but sees his wife. “How _are_ you, honey? People are probably asking you that all the time, asking how you’re holding up… And I know you, I know you’ll put on a brave face and tell everyone that you’re coping… But are you? If you’re not, I hope you know that it’s brave to ask for help, too. I know, that’s a laugh coming from me – I have a fundamental inability to ask for help, genetically coded, maybe… But I don’t want you to sit there and suffer in silence for Morgan’s sake… Maybe you’re not, maybe you’ve gotten over it by the time you watch this… But I think that’s just me downplaying our relationship for the millionth time. You know me and my insecurities, Potts, always thinking you were falling out of love with me… But I know you never did, even when we were broken up…”

“Do you hate me for doing this? For dying? I don’t think you would, I think we both knew the risks when I left this morning… But I think it would still be a punch in the gut for you to find out that I popped it… I know I’ve left you in a tough spot, raising Morgan by yourself – but you’ve got a support system with Happy, Rhodey, Natasha, hey – maybe even Peter… Is Nebula still babysitting?” Tony grins, “If this all goes according to plan, she’ll have a lot of free time without a father to track down. That’s when I get to thinking, what’s my life worth compared to the lives of all those we lost because of Thanos? Is me missing out on a life with you really that much in the grand scheme of things? For me, it’s like I’m losing my world – it’s not that I’m afraid of dying, really, it’s more being afraid of…” Tony reaches out and shoves the pack of Oreos onto the ground so that he can get into bed, moving the helmet so it rests on the pillow beside him. He lies back on the pillow, his hands resting on his chest, the blue light of his reactor filtering through his fingers and making shadowy monsters on the ceiling. 

“Sorry, I was feeling lightheaded and needed to lie down… You can just prop me onto the bed next to you, look,” Tony turns his head to look at the pillow beside him. “Now it’s like I’m in bed with you – is that morbid? You can shut off the hologram and just have my voice, if you want… But back to what I was saying, about being afraid… I’m just afraid of not knowing. Not knowing what comes after – I mean, realistically, nothing comes after, right? We’re just a blip and then we’re gone, and that’s fine… But if there really is nothing, then I won’t know what comes after with you and Morgan. I won’t know what you both do for the rest of your lives, and when you’re gone, you and I won’t see each other again… And I want to see you again, Pep… In my ideal… afterlife, I guess, you and I are just hanging out – there’s no need to argue about Iron Man because there’s no need for Iron Man. We can do whatever we want, and it would be perfect… But that’s my ideal, right? So reality is probably nothing, and then a more realistic afterlife would feature me burning in hell for all eternity.” Tony closes his eyes, sighing. “Not a very comforting thought, I think I’d rather there just be nothing, even if it means…”

“How’s Morgan doing? Is she a great kid? I’m sure she is… I wish I could help you out with PTA meetings and bake sales and selling Girl Scout cookies… Wish I was there to see her go to prom or get behind the wheel for the first time… I hope she doesn’t speed, but if she’s my kid, then she’s definitely going to speed. I can see you now,” Tony grins, “You white knuckling the handle above the door, shouting at her to slow down as she does 80 on the road leading up to our house, turning on two wheels down the driveway… You’ll take her keys away if she does that though, right? Yeah, I know you will… But if it’s just you teaching her to drive, she’ll adhere to the speed limit even in an emergency…”

Tony glances over at the window, the sun is starting to rise, a beautiful blend of pink, red, and purple. “I’m running out of time, Pep. I’ve always been running out of time… Every day is a gift, right? Every time I came back from a mission worse for wear but still alive… I think back on some missions and wonder how the hell I got out of it alive. I think, speaking honestly, I made sure I stayed alive so that I could come home to you… But I guess in this case, not even my sheer stubbornness to make it home to you could keep me kicking… Damn.” He closes his eyes against the rising sun, the tension in his face fading as he takes in a deep breath. “I think I’m just going to rest my eyes for a minute, honey. I don’t think you’ll mind… And if there are nights where you can’t sleep without me there with you, you can just pop hologram Tony on, maybe dim me a little and hit pause right about now, and it’ll look like I’m sleeping beside you. Kinda morbid, I guess, but if roles were reversed, I know I would do the same…” 

Tony rests his eyes quietly, his heart beating slowly as he attempts to enjoy these last couple of hours of peace. _I don’t feel alone… That’s something._ His eyes open after a while, no longer able to ignore the birds chirping outside of the compound, the sound of footsteps down the hall as members of the Avengers make their way to the kitchen for something to eat before their big day begins. 

He looks over at the helmet, brown eyes tired. “Is it a better world, Pep? Did we fix it – did I? God, I hope I did. I love you so much, you know. More than I thought I’d be able to love anyone at all… And I do still think about that night, maybe you do too – when we stood out on the balcony, and you almost kissed me… I should have kissed you, and told you that I loved you then – it probably would have scared you off, but maybe it wouldn’t have… I would have been telling the truth, too, I fell in love with you long before then. I wish I could pinpoint exactly when it happened, when I looked at you and thought, damn, I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I guess I don’t know when it happened because it must have been so easy, just… One day I was in love with you.” Tony smiles, recalling the way she had leaned into him the night they had shared their first kiss, the Stark Expo aflame just beyond them – his legacy aflame, but he didn’t give a damn, all he cared about was the woman in his arms. _That’s why I’m doing this… She’ll have a better life, Morgan will have a better life. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try._  

“This is the reason, Pep – I think you knew that last night, when you said I wouldn’t be able to rest…” He trails off for a moment, expression hardening with determination. “Yeah, this is the reason.” Tony picks up the helmet with a lover’s gentle touch, resting his warm forehead against chilled metal, just for a moment. “And I know in my heart that it’s right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we have almost reached the end. the final chapter is an epilogue - it may be a little self-indulgent, but after endgame, you and i deserve to indulge. indulge with me in this space.


	16. epilogue

Tony screams in agony, his throat tearing at the force of it. His hand flies to his right shoulder, feeling charred flesh and boiling blood – so much blood. The power of the Infinity Stones blisters its way up his neck, across his face – it’s unbearable. _Make it end – make it end, I can’t live like this. Please God make it stop._

The pain disappears. Tony blinks, reaching up to touch below his eye, where he had just seen green light seep out from under his skin. He touches his face gingerly, expecting carnage – but it’s just his face beneath his fingertips. Turning his head slowly, he looks at his right arm. _What…_ It is whole, unburned – he flexes his fingers, not believing what he’s seeing. _How is this possible?_

Tony looks around, suddenly very aware of the fact that he is no longer kneeling on the ground, surrounded by the wreckage of the Avengers compound and Thanos’ army. He’s – well, he’s nowhere. White light surrounds him, and for a terrifying moment he convinces himself that the last five years were just a dream. _I’m going to wake up in the med bay at the compound, and Pepper won’t be there because she was turned into ash. I’m going to be all alone, and my brain’s done this in an attempt to cope. I’m going to open my eyes and all there will be is the bright light coming in from the window._

“Stark.”

It’s a voice that Tony had heard for a very short period of his life, but perhaps the most influential one. _Yinsen._ Tony turns in the emptiness, searching for the man who just spoke to him. Ho Yinsen stands before him, smiling at him with such joy that Tony finally understands. _Oh, that’s why the pain went away. I’m dead._

Yinsen embraces him tightly, his hand cradling the back of Tony’s head, and Tony sags into the hug with a sigh of relief. 

“You didn’t waste it, Stark. You didn’t waste your life.”

“I didn’t? Even though I…?”

Yinsen pulls away, holding Tony by the shoulders and looking at him intently. _He’s not aged a day. Just the same – the little glasses, the beard…_

“Even though you saved the universe? Ah, Stark, are you not the smart man I met in Afghanistan? Though I suppose that dying is rather discombobulating…” 

“Damn.” _This must be some reaction my body’s having, some weird pre-death hallucination. The last firing of my synapses, or something. It’s only an instant on Earth, but in my mind it can last for an eternity. Clever._  

“This isn’t a hallucination, Stark.” Yinsen’s hands drop away from his shoulders, looking at Tony with a raised eyebrow. “This is the afterlife.”

“The afterlife is a blank white space? I thought you said your family would be waiting for you?” _If I was hallucinating this, that is exactly what I would want to reassure myself of – that this is real. But it’s not. There’s no way._

“Would this make you more comfortable?” Tony’s mouth drops open as they are suddenly stood in his garage at the old Malibu mansion. Without thinking, he walks over to the Ford Roadster he had taken apart and put back together more than a dozen times. The metal of the hood is cold against his palm – cold, and real.

“How is this possible? This house was destroyed.”

“You can go anywhere you’d like, Stark – would you prefer to be in the Avengers Tower in New York City? We can go there, too.” 

Tony shakes his head slowly, his fingers trailing over the metal idly. “You didn’t answer my question about your family.”

“They were waiting for me,” Yinsen says as he opens the door to the car and gets behind the wheel, ignoring Tony as he makes a faint noise of protest. “They are waiting for me now, to finish talking to you. I was instructed to, you see.” 

“Instructed? By who – God?” _C’mon, you can’t tell me that my mom was right to believe all that stuff. No way._  

“I’ve never met God – in fact, I’m not sure if such a deity exists… I just knew that when I died, and awoke in that white space, I would see you again. There are rules to this, Stark, important information that I have to impart… And then I may go back to my family. It’s not so bad, after all – in fact, it is nice to see you, after so long.” 

“Rules?” Tony’s fingers run through his hair, remembering how he could smell it burning as he lay dying. It feels fine against his fingertips, a little longer than it had been just moments ago – and thicker… Tony grabs the wing mirror, tugging it to face him.

“Careful Stark, that’s antique…”

Tony stares at his reflection, searching for the grey in his hair that he had grown comfortable with. The wrinkles that had cropped up around his eyes from laughing too much at Morgan’s jokes and smiling too much at Pepper when she was unwittingly doing something cute. _Gone._ He looks as he did just before he was tortured in Afghanistan, and he lifts his head, his fingers brushing over his neck where the knife scar had been since 2008. His unmarked fingers, his unmarked neck. Tony’s hands tremble as he tugs the worn band shirt he’s wearing up over his head, kneeling in front of the mirror for a better look. His palm passes over his sternum, searching for even the faintest hint of the scar left behind from the reactor surgery, the slightest indication of raised skin, of trauma. 

“You look as you want to look, Stark.” Yinsen has both hands on the wheel, looking out the windshield with a grin. “If only we had the keys. I suppose we could, if that’s what you wanted – but that’s not why I’m here. You have a choice, Stark – perhaps the most important choice you’ll ever make. You will think of it that way.”

They are no longer standing (or in Yinsen’s case, sitting) in Tony’s Malibu workshop – Tony raises his hand to block the glint of sunlight off of the surface of Skaneateles Lake. He whirls around on his heels, his heart pounding, and there it is – his home. The dock he had built creaks below his feet, almost like a greeting. _I’m home._

“Yes, Stark, you are home. And here is your choice. Your wife and daughter are inside, they had your funeral this morning. It was lovely, you had many guests. There were tears, of course, I would hope that there were some. But they are inside now, watching a movie.” Yinsen cocks his head, glancing at the house. “The Princess and the Frog, I believe?”

Tony inhales sharply, tears welling up in his eyes. _Inside. They’re both inside._  

“You may stay here, if that is what you wish. I will tell you, this is real. This is life, after your passing. You are not in the afterlife, as you stand here. You may observe – I believe this is both a gift and a curse. Or, you may will yourself to return to the afterlife, and when you return there, your wife will be waiting for you. Once you return to the afterlife, Stark, you may never come back here. Pepper will have passed away, and joined you there – so you will have all of eternity to catch up on what you have missed… But you will not have seen it.”

“I’ll stay,” Tony says instantly, walking towards the house, towards the door. “Of course I’ll stay – I’ll see Pepper, afterwards?”

“You can see her now,” Yinsen says quietly, at Tony’s side in an instant – without stepping off the dock. _How the hell is he doing that_? Tony’s hand grabs the handle of the front door, turning it, hearing the mechanisms click in response to the twist of his hand. But the door doesn’t budge, not even a centimeter.

“Hey, Pep,” Tony knocks at the door, hearing the knock and a chasm of silence all at once. “Pep, can you let me in, honey?”

“She cannot hear you, Stark – and you cannot go inside.”

“That’s bullshit!” Tony snarls, moving down the porch to the window that looks in on the living room. He cups his hands around his eyes, pressing his face up against the glass. His gaze falls upon Pepper and Morgan snuggled up together on the couch, both of them fast asleep as the movie plays on the screen in front of them. _If I was in there, we’d all be wrapped up in one blanket, and they would have complained that I was eating all the popcorn._ He searches for a bowl of popcorn and finds none, but he does find crumpled tissues on the coffee table in front of them, and one is still clutched in Pepper’s hand even as she sleeps.

“You made your choice, Stark – as I said, a gift and a curse. You are to wait and watch. They won’t be able to hear you, see you – there will be no indication that you are there at all.” 

“I’ve been known to make impulsive decisions,” Tony murmurs, unable to pull himself away from the window at all. “And when Pepper – when she – that’s when --?”

“That is when you shall be rejoined in the afterlife, yes. That’s my time, Stark – I have told you everything that you needed to know…” Yinsen’s hand rests on his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. “It shall not be as long as you think… in a way, time is yours to command – much like watching a television show, you may speed through what you wish… But I don’t think you will, will you?”

“No,” Tony agrees, his palm pressed against the window, willing it to break below his hand. “No, I don’t want to miss a minute.” 

“Farewell, Stark. My family awaits me – as you wait for yours.” 

The weight of Yinsen’s hand on his shoulder disappears, and Tony knows that he is now truly alone.

* * *

The sun is setting, and Tony is lapping the lake house for the millionth time, searching for a way to get to the second floor. Pepper and Morgan had woken from their nap in time for dinner, and both had eaten a hearty meal taken from a fridge stocked with casseroles, homemade dinners brought to them by their friends in the wake of Tony’s passing. Pepper had looked only at her dinner and at Morgan, pointedly ignoring Tony’s empty seat beside her. Morgan had cried some after having a juice pop, saying something to Pepper that Tony couldn’t hear – he’s still cursing himself for building the house with such great insulation against the winter, if only he had chosen thinner windows… Both Pepper and Morgan had gone to bed early, the house quiet, the lights turned off.

In the end, Tony scales the chimney, finding that he has more strength than he did on the day he died. _I’m younger now, after all… And I really don’t think the rules of Earth apply to me at the moment…_ He dangles by both arms from the gutter, terrified that it will buckle under his weight and drop him to the ground, but then he recalls that he’s dead and can have no impact on reality. _I can’t exactly die a second time – Yinsen would have mentioned that, he knows I’m accident-prone._ He’s just able to see in his and Pepper’s bedroom, which is illuminated vaguely by the thin bar of light escaping out from under the door to the en-suite bathroom.

“C’mon, Pep,” Tony complains, “You’re taking forever in there. I can’t hang here forever… Well, I probably can… Wish I could get you to put a ladder up against the house, I feel like a squirrel – or a rat…”

Tony squints against the bright flash of light as the bathroom door is flung open, losing his grip on the gutter, cursing and grasping at it with a gasp – almost missing Pepper as she walks to the bedroom door and flips the lock. “Why are you locking it, Pep – what if…?” Tony looks to Pepper’s bedside table, seeing a small red light. “The baby monitor! Ingenious, honestly…” He trails off when the Iron Man helmet makes an appearance. Pepper carefully moves some of the things on his own bedside table, the moonlight casting her in a pale glow – even though Tony’s body is blocking the window almost completely. Her fingers tremble as she shuffles his wallet and one of his watches aside, setting the helmet down carefully. The eye slits of the helmet flicker to life, and Tony watches as Pepper fast forwards through his message to the part where he lies down and rests his eyes. He is lying there beside her, on his own pillow, in his own bed.

“God, Pep, I wish I knew when you watched this the first time…” Tony murmurs to himself, his shoes brushing against the windowsill, just out of reach for him to stand comfortably. Pepper sobs on their bed, her hand passing through his holographic chest, grabbing at nothing but the duvet beneath. _I shouldn’t be watching this. It’s private._ He closes his eyes and lets go of the gutter, the wind billowing through his hair as he falls.

The ground is hard beneath his back, but when he hits it, it doesn’t hurt. In the background, he can hear the chickens as they squawk and get ready to turn in for the night. The cat flap at the front door pushes open, an orange flash of fur streaking out of the house. Slinky walks right past where Tony is lying, and pauses for a moment, staring at him in surprise.

“Hey, wait a minute, can you see me?” Tony sits up, reaching out for the cat, Slinky skittering back with a hiss, bolting off towards the thicket of trees that border the road. _I swear he could see me._ Tony settles back down on the ground, staring up at the sky, his hands clasped together on his chest.

“So…” Tony says to the sky, “I think I made the wrong choice. It was selfish, right? That’s why I can’t go back, because you wanted me to face some consequences for my selfish choice. Shit move, God.” _But I can see Pepper. And Morgan. They are both alive, and well – not happy, but well…_ “Joke’s on you, I’m not going to beg to go back to the afterlife. I’ll wait… and I’ll watch.”

* * *

 

So, he does. When winter comes, he finds himself crunching through feet of snow to get to the house; he never feels cold but the snow is still aggravating. He spends his nights resting on the swing chair he installed on the porch, comfortable with a throw pillow shoved behind his head. A few days before Christmas, Peter Parker and Nebula make their way up the driveway, Peter clutching a mouse ear headband in his hands. 

“Petey!” Morgan opens the door just as Peter raises his hand to knock, throwing herself at him and trusting him to catch her. Peter does, laughing as Morgan wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. 

“Hey, Morgan – were you expecting me?”

“I was watching from the window,” Morgan admits, reaching out and patting Nebula on the shoulder in greeting. “Mommy says you guys are early. She’s still upstairs, packing.” Morgan rolls her eyes, Tony stands beside this little group and drinks it all in, reaching out to stroke some of Morgan’s hair away from her forehead. There’s a gentle breeze, and her hair moves with his fingertips. _I was almost real._  

“Well, we’ve got everything ready in the car,” Peter shifts Morgan on his hip, “You’re getting way too heavy for me to do this.” He places the mouse ears on Morgan’s head, grinning at her. “Now you’re ready for Disney.”

Nebula frowns, “Do the mouse ears provide some sort of protection, Parker?” 

“No, I don’t think so… Oh, hey, Ms. Potts!”

Pepper wheels two suitcases out onto the porch, looking frazzled. “It’s Pepper,” she corrects, “We’ve been over this.”

Tony stands in between Peter and Pepper, gazing longingly at his wife. His hands reach out, cupping her face in his palms, and he knows that she must be so _warm._ She’s bundled up for the snow, and underneath the heavy coat she’s wearing Tony can see one of his own knitted sweaters that he usually wore in the winter. _Bet it still smells like my cologne…_

“I just can’t do it,” Peter grimaces, setting Morgan down so that he can help Pepper get the suitcases down the stairs, snow crunching beneath their feet. “Ms. Potts just comes naturally.” 

“You can call me Ms. Morgan if you want,” Morgan says as she skips beside Nebula, the group walking over to the car. Tony trails a few paces behind them – and this really is a curse – he knows he can’t follow them. The first time Pepper had driven to the grocery store after his death, Tony had clambered over the driver’s seat and into the passenger seat with a grin, and as she had pulled onto the road from the driveway, he had appeared on the dock by the lake instead.

Pepper pauses by the trunk of the car, looking over at their garden plot, the one Tony had tended to with such dedication while he was alive. The first time she had gone there to talk to Tony, he had almost missed it – too distracted by keeping an eye on Morgan in her tree house… But then, Pepper had said his name so quietly, and he was at her side in an instant. Her conversations with him are long, but rare – she only allows herself to come to the garden to talk maybe once a month. It had been a long while since she had played his message to keep her company while she slept, and when he did make an appearance, it still made her cry.  

“You don’t have to say goodbye, Pep.” Tony tells her reassuringly, even though she can’t hear him. His fingers brush over hers, wanting to bring her hand to his lips for a soft kiss. “I’ll see you all when you get back. Don’t worry about me, I always loved Christmas.” 

“Are you okay, Pepper?” Nebula asks her after a few moments of waiting in the car, leaving Peter to entertain Morgan. “Have you forgotten something?” 

“I feel like I have,” Pepper admits quietly, her hand resting against the side of the car. “Tony said we could go on this trip as long as we stuck to our Christmas traditions – but a part of me… I don’t want to do them, Nebula, I think it’ll just make me sad.”

“Do these traditions have to do with Santa Claus? Morgan mentioned him.” The way Nebula’s hand tightens into a fist, as if she perceives Santa as a threat, makes Pepper smile – however faintly. 

“I guess so. Tony always threw himself into the holidays to distract him from the passing of his parents, but now I can’t do the same because all it does is make me think of him.” Pepper pulls her hand away from the car, squaring her shoulders and putting on a brave face. “But Morgan is desperate to go, and I guess we’d better get a move on… It’s a long drive.” 

Tony follows her as she walks to the driver’s door, getting behind the wheel. Tony’s hands rest against the window, looking in the car at her – Morgan, Nebula, Peter – a family, almost. He idly wonders where Happy is, and smirks when he has a sudden realization. _Probably keeping Aunt May company during the holiday, huh, Hap? You sly dog._

Pepper starts to back the car out of the driveway, and Tony trudges after them, a mixture of terrible jealousy and immense happiness. The selfish part of him that rears its head every so often comes to the forefront of his mind – _They are going to Disney and I’m dead._ His arms cross over his chest, scowling at the thought. _Well, what do you want them to do, Stark? You want Pep to just sit upstairs and cry all the time? No, you don’t._ He raises his hand slowly, waving goodbye as the car backs out onto the road.

“Merry Christmas, you guys,” Tony mutters, waiting until the car is out of sight before he returns to his spot on the porch, resigned to spending his first Christmas truly alone since the passing of his parents.

* * *

“I don’t want to go!” Morgan is a hairsbreadth away from shouting at her mother, her face red, her hands bunched into fists. “School is stupid, I don’t want to go.” 

Pepper is standing out on the porch beside Tony, clutching Morgan’s backpack tightly in her hands, doing her best not to lose her composure.

“I know it’s scary, honey, but it’ll be so much fun – I promise. You’ll make a bunch of friends, and you’ll learn a lot.” 

Morgan’s expression grows stony, her feet planted firmly on the ground, intent on not budging from where she stands in the foyer. “No.”

“You know…” Pepper sounds hesitant, and Tony’s eyebrows raise.

“You are not going to pull the dead dad card right now, are you?” Tony looks between Pepper and Morgan, “You totally are! Well, I can’t say I disagree, our kid needs to get an education. She won’t be mad once she’s running around the playground like a lunatic."

“Daddy was very excited for you to go to school,” Pepper’s voice hitches slightly but she powers through. “We would talk about it once you’d gone to bed, all the things he wanted you to learn – he had fun in school when he was your age. He built his first engine when he was eight, I think.”

“Seven,” Tony corrects with a grin. “But not far off the mark, Potts.”

“Really?” Morgan inches closer to the door, still inside, but perhaps not so intent on staying home. 

“Yep, he did. Daddy was really, really smart – and he and I always thought you would be just as smart as him. And you are, honey, but to get even smarter… You have to go to school.” Pepper extends the backpack towards Morgan, like a hesitant zookeeper offering a scrap of meat to an alligator. “And when you get home, you can tell me all about your day – because I’m sure you’ll have a bunch of stories… And I’m sure Daddy will be listening too.” 

That pushes Morgan over the threshold and onto the porch, and she shoulders on the backpack with a sigh. “Did you pack me a treat?” 

Pepper locks the front door, doing her best not to smile too triumphantly. “I did, sweetheart. But you have to save it til lunch time, okay?” 

“Okay,” Morgan agrees as she takes her mother’s hand, walking with her to where the car is waiting, Happy behind the wheel.

Pepper heads straight for the garden once Happy has dropped her off at home, and Tony heads there too, wanting to check up on the broccoli.

“That was really hard, Tony,” Pepper says, speaking to no one – that she’s aware of. She sits down in the lawn chair she had put next to the garden for this exact purpose, reaching out to stroke the petals of the largest sunflower. “God, I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through this without you. We were supposed to raise her as a team, and now I’m… And I shouldn’t have used you as a tool to get her out of the house, I know that and I feel terrible about it, but… You’d tell me to milk it, I think…” 

“I would,” Tony replies, squatting down beside the broccoli and inspecting it intently. “You should harvest these soon, Pep, otherwise they’ll rot.”

“And I can’t use it too often, because I think she’ll start to resent you. Your father would want you to tidy your room, your father would want you to be home by ten, your father would want you to eat your vegetables…” Pepper buries her face in her hands, her copper hair streaked with silver glinting in the sunlight. “I don’t know what you would want, Tony. Why did we never talk about this stuff? Why didn’t you leave a parenting clause in your will? How am I supposed to know that what I’m doing is right?”

“You always make the right call, Pep, I trust your judgment.” Tony glances up at her, wishing she could hear him – or feel him when his hand rests against her knee. _A curse. Goddamn, I wish I’d just chosen ignorance._  

“Maybe you’d say I always make the right choices, but I don’t always, Tony – I really don’t. I don’t know what to do if someone bullies her, or if she bullies someone… Or if she becomes an unruly teenager and -…” 

“And takes after her father?” Tony grins, shaking his head. “Low blow, Pep.” 

“This isn’t helping anyone,” Pepper says suddenly, Tony’s hand falling away from her knee as she gets to her feet. “It’s self-indulgent, I’m speaking to you, and you’re not there. I know you’re not there, but I just wish…” She looks down at the sunflowers with a frown, a tear dripping off her jaw and onto the soil below. “I wish you were here, Tony.”

* * *

 

“So you see, Peter,” Morgan punches him on the shoulder, just to make sure that he’s listening to her. The two of them are climbing trees out in the woods, though initially Peter had an unfair advantage with his web shooters –he got fed up with Morgan’s whining about halfway through and offered her one of his. “That’s why you gotta come to school with me on Monday.” Morgan is eleven years old, and firm in her belief that she has the world figured out already. Tony blames himself for that, and shakes his head as he walks below them on the ground.

“I don’t think I’m old enough to pose as your dad, Morgan,” Peter says hesitantly, swinging forward to the next branch, looking back over his shoulder to make sure that Morgan swings without hurting herself. “What about Happy?” 

“He has the beard, I guess,” Morgan says breathlessly, clambering onto a branch to catch her breath. “But his job is boring. Uncle Rhodey has a cool job, but Mom said a bunch of it is classified. She said I could skip school, if I wanted, but… I just think it’s dumb. Why should I care what everyone else’s stupid dad does?”

Peter dangles upside-down from a higher branch, looking at Morgan thoughtfully. “I brought my Uncle Ben to that sort of thing – and then after he died, I brought Aunt May… This is probably the only one you’ll ever have to go to. Couldn’t you have FRIDAY pilot a suit and just bring that to school? Hey everyone, my dad was Iron Man.”

“Mom says I can’t do that,” Morgan replies with a scowl, plucking leaves off of the tree.

“Thank God,” Tony mutters under his breath, craning his neck to look up at the both of them. “This is really dangerous, you guys, does Pep know you do this?” 

“I think if you skip, you’ll feel sad. I think if you don’t bring anyone with you, you’ll feel sad.” Peter shrugs, and then swings backwards when Morgan thwacks him on the face with a leaf. “You only did that because you know I’m right.”

“I know,” Morgan says with a sigh, beginning the long shimmy down the tree while Peter simply drops to the ground. “I’ll ask Rhodey, maybe we can fly in on a jet and land in the field.” 

“Probably not, but it’s always fun to ask,” Peter says brightly, looking over his shoulder in response to Pepper’s distant voice calling the two of them inside. “We’d better go, toss me your shooter.” 

Morgan throws the gauntlet to Peter, watching as he stores them both in his pocket. “We should have her do that some time. I think she’d have fun, eventually.”

“Your mom is not the type of woman to swing from tree to tree,” Peter says knowingly, his hand on Morgan’s shoulder as he steers her back to the house. “I couldn’t even get Tony to do it, he said he didn’t like falling – I think he just thought my tech was cooler than his and didn’t want to let on.” 

Tony gasps from behind them, horrified, “Peter Parker, you can’t plant that sort of thought into my kid’s head. I was a cool dad!”

* * *

“No, absolutely not. Are you out of your mind?” Pepper’s hands frame her face, her fingers sinking into her hair, eyes narrowed. Tony cringes a bit behind her, arching up onto his tip-toes to look over her shoulder into the garage where Morgan is standing with her hands on her hips. 

“You have a suit,” Morgan says with a hint of teenage defiance. “Dad promised me we’d make one when I turned sixteen, and I have.” 

“I haven’t worn that suit since your father – since he died. You are absolutely not allowed to make a suit, Morgan, I’m telling you right now. You don’t need one.” 

“Well, Mom,” Morgan cocks her head. “It’s too late, Dad and I built one together.” 

“What do you mean you built it together?” Pepper sounds like she’s teetering on hysteria, reaching out to grasp at the doorframe for support. “Morgan, your father -.” 

“Is dead, I know that,” Morgan replies sharply. “Believe me Mom, I’m well aware of the exact circumstances of Tony Stark’s death, people talk to me about him all the time.”

Tony cringes again.

“Then how did you make a suit _together_? And where is this suit?” 

Morgan lifts up both hands, identical bracelets jangling on each wrist. Tony’s mouth drops open, because it’s brilliant – a tiny housing for the nanites – reminiscent of the bracelets he had worn for a time in 2012 to summon a suit to him wherever he was. 

“Hey, Pep.” Tony jumps as he hears his own voice emanate from the speakers in the garage. _Ooh, AI Tony you sneaky bastard._  

Pepper’s hands drop away from her face to clench into fists at her side, and she half turns out of the garage. “He **didn’t**.” 

Morgan shifts slightly, a little uncertain of how to proceed. “Yeah, Dad made an AI of himself – he left me a message for when I turned sixteen and… Mentioned that it might be useful, as a way for him and me to make the suit together… Please don’t be mad, Mom – we don’t have to – I like FRIDAY.” She looks at Pepper earnestly, and with her brown eyes and slightly curly brown hair, Tony sees himself pleading with his wife just as his daughter pleads with her mother. “I just wanted to build this with Dad… and I know that an AI of him isn’t the same as building it with him, but I wanted…” 

“I understand,” Pepper’s voice is soft, though her back is still to Morgan and the garage. “But I can’t – hearing that, it does sound so much like Tony, but… It’s not him, and I can’t…” 

Morgan hurries forward, her hand brushing over Pepper’s shoulder. “I can shut him off, Mom – now that I’ve finished the suit, I don’t need…”

“Do you like having him to talk to?” Pepper turns to face her, and her eyes are red, her face flushed. “I’m not going to make you turn hi—the AI off. If you feel like it helps you… I don’t know, process things, or if it makes you happy… As long as you understand that it’s not your father and that I can’t… I can’t be around it… If you kept it to just the garage...” 

“Yes,” Morgan says instantly, “Yes – I can contain him to the garage, and I can program him so that he doesn’t talk if you were to come in…” 

“I haven’t been in that garage in a decade, Morgan – not even to reminisce. There’s too much of your father in there… Like right now…” Pepper points over at a workbench with a trembling finger, “I swear he could just be sitting there, up to his elbows in the engine block of the truck, covered in motor oil.” She manages a weak smile. “Every inch of that garage is Tony, and it’s too much.”

She takes a step back, her feet landing on grass, no longer in Tony’s workshop. “I was always afraid of you wanting to have your own suit. Tony nearly died, God, it felt like once a week – while he was wearing that thing. Even when he wasn’t fighting anyone, he would try and break these crazy records… I just don’t want you to feel like you… Like you have to put on a suit and step into his place, because that’s not what he wanted…” 

“Honestly, Mom, that’s not why I built it.” Morgan steps out of the garage, closing the door behind her – leaving AI Tony to entertain himself in silence. “I just thought it would be cool to have one, like – if I go away to college and want to come home for dinner, I could just fly home and be here in like an hour or two… Dad wouldn’t – I mean, AI Dad - wouldn’t even let me put a weapons system into it beyond the repulsors… Kinda lame, if you ask me, but he didn’t give me much of a choice…”

Morgan stands in front of Pepper, Tony standing beside his wife, his grin matching the one on their daughter’s face.

“Please, can I just show it to you? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’ll like it… I kinda hoped that maybe we could fly together, once I had it built – like you and Dad used to do…”

Pepper crosses her arms over her chest, biting at her bottom lip for a moment, conflicted. She sighs. “Yeah, show me it. You’ve got my curiosity piqued, I must admit.”

Morgan’s grin widens, and in a matter of seconds, her body is encased in black and gold metal that travels up from the unassuming bracelets around her wrists. Tony whistles appreciatively, circling her and inspecting the suit closely.

“Goddamn, Morgan – this is amazing. Black and gold, why didn’t I ever think of that? It’s almost intimidating – and the bracelets! Amazing - though how the hell did you get the reactor components to fit in them? God, you’re a genius. Or AI Tony is a genius, well…” Tony grins, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I guess I am a bit of a genius, if I’m being humble but honest.” 

Pepper is smiling too, despite herself, and she reaches out to brush over the smooth metal covering Morgan’s face. “You built this? It’s amazing, baby. Really, really amazing. Your dad would be… He’d be very proud of you.”

“Do you wanna see me fly?” Even though Morgan’s voice is slightly robotic from the helmet’s comms unit, the excitement in her words shines through. “I’ve not actually flown in it yet, except in the garage. I was afraid you’d see me.”

Pepper steps back, her hands on her hips. “Go on, then.”

Morgan is up in the air with a burst of energy from the jets of the suit, taking off at high speed after a moment of hesitation. Tony and Pepper stand together, raising their hands to their foreheads in sync to block out the sun, watching their daughter as she flies over the lake.

“God, Tony,” Pepper says quietly, “I wish you were here.”

* * *

The car door slams, the noise seeming to echo around the yard, so very, very quiet now that Pepper has dropped their daughter off at MIT for the start of her freshman year. Pepper starts to walk up the driveway towards the house, but at the last second she adjusts her trajectory, and heads toward the garden instead. She reaches down to brush away the dirt on the long-abandoned lawn chair, not wanting to ruin the white pants that she’s wearing. Pepper is tense, her fingernails biting against the palms of her hands, staring down at the lawn chair with a frown. A bird chirps cheerfully from a tree behind her, and Pepper sighs, sitting down in the chair stiffly.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.” Pepper turns her right hand over, the fingers of her left hand moving to rub at the half-moons left in her palm, trying to soothe away the redness. “But I guess I have a lot to say… Today was a big day, wasn’t it, Tony? I cried almost the entire way home. I think you would have cried, too.” 

Tony sits down beside her on the grass, reaching out to tug up a strand, but no matter how hard he pulls he’s left empty handed. Instead, he rubs at his thumbnail idly, wishing he had something to keep his hands busy.

“I called this self indulgent, years ago, remember? Me talking to you – well, talking to the garden.” Pepper leans forward and pulls a weed from the dirt, shaking the dirt off of the roots before resting it on her lap. Her fingers start to pull little strands away from the weed, letting them flutter to her feet. “And it is self indulgent, but I really miss you today. She was so excited, when we were driving down there – blasting her music in the car, she says my music is boring… But the minute we had everything unpacked in her dorm, after Happy pulled a muscle in his back carrying the mini fridge up the stairs, she started crying… I honestly didn’t know what to do, Morgan’s never been one to display her emotions… She saw a therapist all the way through high school, because I was afraid she had inherited your tendency to bottle up your emotions until it was too much for you to bear – but they always assured me that she was a healthy girl with healthy coping mechanisms… So, I asked her why she was crying, and she told me that she was worried about me being all alone up here.” Pepper shakes her head, though there are tears welling in her eyes.

“Can you believe that? On the day that she moves in to college, she was more worried about me than about herself. I told her that I would be fine, and I think I will be – eventually. It is a big change, I remember when she went on her first sleepover… I put on that recording you left me for the first time in almost a year, and spent the whole night crying.” Pepper smiles humorlessly, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I don’t know what I would do if we had built that huge house you wanted – what did it have, like 15 bedrooms? I’d probably just disappear in there if I was all by myself… I got asked out on a date last week.”

Tony stiffens, looking up at Pepper with a frown – but then his frown fades, he doesn’t have the right to be upset if she decided to see someone. 

“And I said yes.” Pepper twists the wedding ring on her finger slowly, looking down at it. “Morgan’s history teacher, I saw him at Wegmans and we got to talking… We’d spoken before, but mostly about Morgan – it was the one class she struggled in, so we spoke quite often about her progress… He asked me as I was weighing out some bananas… To dinner, he said – and he’s a handsome guy, Tony, all scholarly and practically covered head to toe in tweed… I actually think you guys would get along, he has a bit of a mechanic streak, collects old cars… I was caught so off guard when he asked that I didn’t even think of you.” Pepper sniffs at that, reaching up to rub at her eyes. “How could I not think of you, Tony? I was so mad at myself for saying yes, when I was driving home, I was just furious. I almost called him while I was driving to call the whole thing off, and I should have done it then anyways – it would have been kinder than what I ended up doing…” 

“So I went the whole week getting ready for this date – I even called Rhodey to talk about it… And Rhodey said I should just go through with it, that I liked the guy – and what was the harm in one dinner? The night of the date, I spent hours getting ready, thank God Morgan was sleeping over at a friend’s house otherwise she would have made fun of me… Aside from work, I haven’t really had a chance to dress up for myself, you know, do my makeup perfectly and put on a cute outfit… I was ready to go at quarter to 7, I was going to meet him for dinner at that Italian place in the village – the one that you… I think that was a problem for me, too, the fact that you loved the restaurant that we were supposed to be going to. But what really did me in was when I took off my wedding ring. I put it down on my nightstand, and then I looked over at where yours is…”

Tony glances down at his left hand, his wedding ring shining against his tan skin. Had Pepper removed his ring after he had died? He can’t picture her carefully working the metal band off of the stiff ring finger of his corpse. Maybe Rhodey had – or Happy – or perhaps, at the funeral home. _Did I go to a funeral home?_

“I started thinking about you doing the same thing – if I died, I mean… You taking your wedding ring off before going on a date, with some other woman. And I know it’s been almost fifteen years since you’ve died, and you always told me I was a catch… But I just started crying, and I mean bawling my eyes out. It was embarrassing how much I cried, and it was so loud that I didn’t hear Steve – not Rogers, the history teacher -- calling on my phone. He called a couple of times, actually, and left some voicemails. The last one was at 9:30, so I guess he just gave up and ate his food. It’s been a week now, since we were supposed to meet, and I’ve not called him. I can’t, how do I explain it? I thought I was ready to date again but before I could even leave the house all I could think about was my dead husband and how he loved the carbonara at the restaurant I was meeting another man at… I’d sound crazy.”

“You’re not crazy, Pep. You’re not crazy, I just wish…” Tony sighs, holding his face in his hands. “I wish you could hear me. I’ve said it a thousand times… and each time I mean it a little more than before. Goddamn, this is torture.” 

“I think I’ll be okay being alone,” Pepper says, wiping at her eyes with a raggedy looking tissue that she finds in her pocket. “I just know now that there really isn’t anyone else out there for me except you. I can’t believe I’m saying that, but it’s true.” She stands up from the chair, gently nudging one of the blossoming sunflowers. “Our daughter moved away to college today, can you believe that? I love you, Tony.” 

_I love you too, Pep._

* * *

 

Life at the lake house is quiet without Morgan. Throughout Morgan’s childhood, Pepper had done most of her work for Stark Industries via telecommuting, having Nebula or Peter babysit when she had no choice but to go into the city. With Morgan at college, Pepper was free to go into the city as often as she wanted, taking a private Stark Industries jet out of the airport in Syracuse – never once taking the Rescue suit, though Tony was always there over her shoulder excitedly telling her that today should be the day. With Pepper away for a lot of the time, Tony lets time slip through his fingers, four years passing in the blink of an eye.

Morgan comes home briefly after graduation, but only to gather the belongings she deemed necessary for her new house in Florida. From the snippets of conversation happening outside, or by lurking at slightly open doors and windows, Tony is able to figure out what his daughter plans on doing with her adult life – she had taken a large portion of her inheritance and invested it into developing a space exploration department at Stark Industries. Her main goal, she had told her mother with a grin, was to be the first human to step foot on Mars. Tony couldn’t be more proud; he had once had the same dream, though he had been much younger than Morgan when it had first crossed his mind. His time as Iron Man, the trauma he had experienced in space – both of those combined had rendered those dreams to dust. But with Morgan… his dream was alive again, with such youthful hope and an almost arrogant confidence that she would be the one to get the job done. Pepper didn’t cry until she was back inside the house, Morgan pulling out of the driveway in a U-Haul, her long-term girlfriend in the passenger seat.

Each night, Tony kept his eyes on the sky, looking for the vaguest outline of a spaceship that would be sending his daughter to Mars. She steps foot on the red planet the day of her twenty sixth birthday, Tony staring wistfully through the window at the television where a clear video stream of Morgan’s face is playing, Pepper singing happy birthday to her and blowing out the candles on a small cake she had made that morning. Morgan had ended the stream with a request that Pepper save her a slice, Tony grinning as he read her lips – a skill he had refined over many years.

Tony wakes one morning completely unaware that his daughter is getting married today. He grumbles in indignation when the porch swing shakes beneath him, sitting upright to glare out at the lawn. Nebula’s small spaceship leaves a burn mark on the grass, Tony’s indignation growing. Still, Tony doesn’t think anything is amiss – Nebula came to visit often. Nebula is carrying a bouquet of flowers rather stiffly, which Tony does think is a tiny bit strange, but he brushes it off as a gift for Pepper – or Morgan, who had been visiting home for the last couple of days. 

Tony settles back down on the swing, pressing his forearm over his eyes in an attempt to block out the sun – sleep isn’t as fulfilling as it had been when he was alive – he woke up feeling exactly the same as he had when he had fallen asleep. He was never exhausted or well rested, he was just… here. 

“Peter, look out -!” Tony’s forearm falls away from his face when Peter’s wife, MJ, calls out to him in warning, but it’s too late. Peter Parker – now taller than Tony had ever been – goes sprawling across the porch in his best suit, the flower in his buttonhole crushed underneath him. 

“That step always gets me,” Peter groans, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “Is the board loose?” 

MJ glances at her husband in exasperation, and then bends down to look at the offending step. She’s wearing a slate blue dress – Peter Parker’s suit is in the same shade. Tony frowns, thinking back to when Nebula had arrived – she had been carrying a bouquet of flowers, yes, but over her arm had been some sort of outfit in the same shade of blue. Tony’s mouth drops open, looking over his shoulder through the window to the living room. Morgan’s girlfriend, Olivia, had been staying at the lake house. Last night, however, she and Morgan had stood on the porch and shared a goodbye kiss, Olivia driving off. Tony had figured the other woman had to head back to Florida for work – but now Tony thinks that Olivia had spent the night at a hotel. _Oh my God, was Morgan wearing an engagement ring? Was she?_

“As always, Peter, the step is fine. Not a single loose board. If people knew that Spider-Man was actually this clumsy in real life…” MJ shakes her head, offering Peter her hand to help haul him to his feet. 

“Hey, you two,” Rhodey says as he gets out of his car, walking up to the porch. His suit matches Peter’s, and now Tony is simultaneously starting to panic and starting to get excited. “You’re gonna have to ask Pep for a Tide to-go pen, Pete, you’ve got dirt all over the front of your suit.”

“Do I?” Peter looks down at himself, attempting to brush dirt off of his lapels. “Damn it, Morgan’ll freak if she sees that.”

“She’s upstairs,” Nebula says as she opens the door for the arriving wedding party. “Pepper is helping her do her makeup, though I offered…” 

Tony stares at the blue alien, his mouth agape. He would think that Morgan’s choice of colors for her bridesmaids ( _is Peter an honorary bridesmaid?)_ would clash with Nebula’s very blue skin, but she looks lovely. It’s not a dress, but it’s an outfit similar to the jumpsuit she wore day-to-day. 

“My daughter is getting married today?” Tony asks the group as they file into the house, though no one answers him. “Morgan is getting married? Today?”

The door shuts, and Tony is alone – but only for a moment. Happy trudges up the steps with his hands in his pockets, looking over at the garden for a moment, almost guiltily. He steps into the house as Tony sits down on the porch swing, his hands clasped together.

_I bet Happy and Rhodey are walking her down the aisle together. That’s why Happy looked guilty, because he thinks he’s stepping on my toes. Thank God she has the two of them._ Tony closes his eyes for a moment, picturing Peter’s suit. His hand runs over his thigh, the fabric against his palm no longer the rough denim he’s been wearing for years. Tony gets to his feet, looking at his vague reflection in the window. He reaches up to straighten the pale peach tie he’s now wearing, instinctively fixing his collar and the lapels of his slate blue suit jacket.

“This is stupid,” he says quietly to himself, pacing around the porch. “I’m not even going to be able to go to the ceremony. Why did I change clothes?” Tony turns around, the boards creaking below his feet as he walks to the other side of the porch. “Stupid question, I changed clothes because my daughter is getting married today, and I’d feel like an idiot if I didn’t change into something more formal.” He grasps the wooden beam that encloses the porch, wishing he could feel splinters digging into his skin.

“I should be the one to walk her down the aisle,” he says, to no one in particular. “I should be here for this. Why do I have to miss out on all the important things – you know what, why did I have to die, come to think of it? I saved the entire fucking world by killing Thanos, and what thanks do I get for it? Oh sure, I’ve seen bits and pieces, memorials left to me, places named after me. But what about my daughter’s first day of school, or the time she first was learning how to drive, or the day of her graduation from MIT? I only get to see bits and pieces of that, too, and even then, they don’t know that I’m here… Is this some sort of joke? I’m a man who has everything and nothing, right? Here I am again, right back where I started. Except now I’m dead.” Tony’s fists slam into the railing, though there’s no satisfying crack of wood beneath his hands – his imagination couldn’t drum the sound up. “This is bullshit.” 

He whirls around on his heels, ready to pace to the other side of the porch yet again, wishing he had something to lash out at. Morgan pushes open the front door carefully, and Tony’s fists unfurl at his sides.

“Come on, you guys, we’re going to be late. Olivia will think I’ve left her at the altar.” Her veil is pushed back over her carefully curled brown hair, the fabric whispering against the back of her dress. Tony walks over to her, feeling as though he’s in a dream. Morgan is covered in intricate lacework, the sleeves of her dress are made out of it, the bodice at the front is lace, and the fabric that rests below her neck is lace. Tony reaches out, his hands resting on her shoulders, and he swears that he can feel the loops and whorls beneath his palms. Pepper is behind her, carefully carrying the simple train of Morgan’s dress, not wanting a speck of dirt to mark the white fabric. His hands drop away from Morgan’s shoulders, instead walking at her side as they make their way to Happy’s Rolls-Royce. 

“I bet you’re having your wedding in a church,” Tony’s voice is quiet, his trembling hands hidden in his pockets. “Your mother and I got married at the courthouse, though I’m sure you know that already. My mother would be very happy to know that you’re doing it properly, per Carbonell tradition – apparently she had to plead with my dad for weeks to get him to step foot into a cathedral, but in the end he relented… Though maybe this time it was Olivia who begged you – are you religious? There are so many things about you that I don’t know.”

Happy gets into the driver’s seat, grumbling at something Rhodey had said, the other man getting into the passenger seat. Peter, MJ, and Nebula bundle into Rhodey’s car to follow behind them. Morgan makes herself comfortable in the car, trying not to wrinkle the train while she’s sitting. Pepper glances over at the garden, her expression sorrowful, her right hand reaching over to her left to twist her wedding ring for a moment.

“Mom? Olivia is seriously going to think that I’m a bride on the run if we don’t get going soon.” 

Pepper looks back at her, one foot rising to get into the car. She stands awkwardly, half in the car and half out of it, Tony reaching out to steady her without thinking.

“Sorry, honey, I’m just thinking about…” She gets into the car, taking Morgan’s hand in hers. “Your father would be so proud of you.”

Morgan blinks, biting at her bottom lip for a moment as she struggles to maintain her composure. “I know, Mom. I wish he was here.”

“Me too,” Pepper says softly, reaching out with one hand to grab the door, shutting it while Tony’s hands push it closed on the other side.

* * *

The sunlight dances across the surface of the lake, and in it, Tony’s sees an array of colors that always dazzles him. He has been seeing the very same view, day in and day out, for more than thirty years since his death. In the beginning, he had worried that he would grow sick of their lake house and the land surrounding it, since he was able to go nowhere else – but as time had passed, he had fallen more in love with where he had chosen to plant the roots of his family. The water laps over the tops of his shoes, soaking into the fabric, but he can’t feel the coolness over his feet – his mind is able to supplement the world around him, able to conjure up imaginations that almost convince him that he’s alive and well – but then, he doesn’t feel the water, or the breeze, or smell the flowers blooming on the air… 

Tony exhales deeply, content with standing here for a little while longer, taking in the view. It’s early afternoon, and usually there are boats and jet-skis tearing across the lake, the weather is gorgeous enough for all sorts of drunk morons on boats to enjoy. Unusually, the lake is still. _Maybe everyone else is just enjoying the view today, like me._

Behind him, a car door slams on the driveway, and he hears the sound of footsteps slapping down on the gravel, muffled giggles – it can only mean one thing, his grandchildren have come to visit.

Tony smiles, turning away from the beautiful scene of the lake, eager to see the two twins that Pepper spoils constantly. Pepper herself had been MIA over the last couple of weeks – the last Tony had seen of her, Peter Parker had helped her into the car and carefully packed a couple of her suitcases into the trunk. She had been crying. She seemed almost… frail. Tony frowns as he remembers that, remembers the way the sunlight had shimmered through the strands of her silver hair – had it been weeks, or had it been months? Years? _God, I don’t know. What if she left months ago? Where did she go? Why didn’t I pay more attention?_  

“Kids,” Olivia manages to wrangle Morgan’s twin son and daughter by the shoulder, both of them looking up at her with innocent green eyes. Olivia had given birth to them, and they look almost like carbon copies of her, or, perhaps more like their grandmother. It seems both Tony and Morgan had a soft spot for redheads. 

“Yeah, Mom?” Harry – named after his late uncle Harold Hogan – grins up at his mother. _A shit eating grin if I ever saw one._  

“Can you and your sister go find somewhere else to play? Like, maybe the tree house? Your mother…”

Tony looks over his shoulder at the car, Morgan is still sat in the front seat, her face expressionless. _What’s going on? Where’s Pepper?_ He turns to ask his daughter-in-law that very question, despite its futility, and the penny drops. Harry is wearing a suit, black and somber. Olivia and Natalie ( _cute as a button_ ), both wear equally somber black dresses.

_No._  

“Sure, Mom,” Harry replies, grabbing Natalie’s hand, the two of them rushing off to the still resplendent tree house that Tony had built for his daughter. 

He walks beside Olivia to the car, looking in at Morgan anxiously while Olivia opens up the door. 

“Are you…?”

Morgan looks over at her, her eyes red from crying, mascara running down her cheeks. She sniffles slightly, reaching up with her hand to wipe her eyes, but Olivia gently bats her hand away as she cleans Morgan’s face with a soft handkerchief.

“I haven’t been back since Mom got sick… And now…” She looks down at a pamphlet clenched in her hand, Tony feels cold sweat run down the back of his neck, his stomach in knots. The pamphlet reads ‘In Loving Memory of Virginia Elizabeth Stark’.  

She takes Olivia’s arm for support as she gets out of the car, slowly walking with her over to the garden, which is now overrun from lack of maintenance. It possesses a sort of wild beauty that in his wildest dreams, Tony would never be able to replicate artificially. 

“She used to come out here to talk to Dad.” Morgan’s voice cracks for a moment, and her grip tightens on Olivia’s arm as she clears her throat before continuing. Tony watches her fingers tremble when she reaches out to stroke the petals of one of the huge sunflowers that Pepper had tended to with the same gardening fervor as her late husband had. “She never told me – I think she was embarrassed about it. But I heard her, a couple of times… I just hope…” Morgan trails off, shaking her head. “It’s stupid, I know… But I hope she’s talking to him now.” 

_I can’t listen to anymore of this. I’ll go crazy. She can’t be dead._ Tony closes his eyes against the tears. _Not Pep._

* * *

When he opens them again, a few stray tears making their way down his cheeks, he is no longer standing beside the garden he had planted at the lake house. He is no longer at the lake house, at all. Tony reaches up, tugging at the bow tie tight around his throat, frowning. 

“Of all the things I could wear, a tux?” Tony’s hands rest on the counter in front of him, and he leans forward in surprise when he sees the selection of various bottles of alcohol available to him. “Really, God? This seems a little cruel, more so than usual…”

The soles of his shining black dress shoes strike the marble floor of the ballroom as he leans forward just a little bit more to see if his favorite scotch is on offer, cursing under his breath when he finds it. “Asshole.”

Heels click against the floor behind him, footsteps slow, hesitant. Tony tenses, turning slowly to face whoever it is that is behind him, inwardly hoping that it’s – _It won’t be. Too good to be true._  

“Tony?” Pepper Potts stands before him, gorgeous in the backless blue dress she had bought for herself in his name for her birthday. It all makes sense in a moment, this is the Disney Concert Hall – this is where they had danced at the Firefighter’s Family Fund gala, the night he had been forced to crash his own party. 

“Hey, Ms. Potts,” Tony says slowly, walking towards her. _She can see me._ His hands rest against her upper arms, her skin delightfully warm against his palms. _I can feel something. I can feel her._ “Hey, honey.”

Pepper throws her arms around his neck, hugging him to her with such strength that all the air is knocked out of his lungs. Tony laughs breathlessly, spinning her around in a circle, her hair tickling against his face, her perfume a heady, intoxicating cloud around his head. 

“God, it’s been a spell,” Tony murmurs as they slow to a gentle sway across the dance floor. “How about I get you that vodka martini?”

And oh, how they dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you indulge with me? i hope you did, and i hope you enjoyed. thanks for reading!


End file.
